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Young Mrs. Winthrop. 



a PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 



BRONSON HOWARD. 



Published in accordance with the requirements of the copyright law 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 






-• 17 

.... 



MADISON SQUARE THEATRE, NEW YORK, 
1882. 



V OF W«C II 






COPYKIGHT, 1883, 

Br M. H. MALLOKY 



OHAEAOTERS. 



MRS. RUTH WINTHROP. 

MR. DOUGLAS WINTHROP, her Son. 

CONSTANCE WINTHROP, his Wife. 

BUXTON SCOTT, a Lawyer. 

MRS. DICK CHETWYN, a Lady of Society. 

EDITH, Sister of Constance. 

HERBERT. 

DR. MELLBANKE. 

MAID. 



We fell out, my wife and I, 

we fell out — I know not w7iy — 

And kiss'd again with tears. 
For ivhen we came where lies the child 

We lost in other years ; 
There above tlic little grave, 
there above the little grave, 

We kiss'd again -with tears. 

Tennyson. 



LULLABY.— "Golden Slumbers. 



Composed V>j Frank A. Howson. 
Allegro moderato con espress. -==zz 



Gold - en slumbers kiss your eyes, Smiles a 






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wait you when you rise ; Sleep, lit - tie 



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dar-ling, do not cry. And I will sing 



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rail, e dim. 



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lul - la - by, And I will sing a ltd - la 
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by, Lul - la - by, lul - la - by. 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 



ACT FIRST. 

Scene. — Interior of a private residence of a man of wealth 
in New York. Door r. 1. e. ; also r. u. e. A mantel 
and fire R., near front. An easel, with portrait of a beau- 
tiful little girl of four years, vp c. Small stand or table 
down l. c. A number of presents for a child' s birthday, on 
chairs and other pieces of furniture, c. and l. c. Some of 
these presents must be such as are referred to in the dialogue. 
Evening. Lights for ordinary family life. Discovered : 
Mrs. Rdth Winthrof, sitting before fire down R. She 
has a doll, partly dressed, in her lap, and is working on its 
little bonnet. She is singing a lullaby, as she works, when 
the curtain rises. 

Mrs. Ruth. There, Miss Dolly ! {Trying bonnet on the doll 
and holding it up) you will have a beautiful little mother to- 
morrow, and I shall be your great-grandmother. Your name 
is to be " Ruth" — after me — how do you like it? Your little 
mother has a very large family already, but I am sure she will 
love you more than any of the rest. (Kisses the doll.) Lie here, 
my pet. (Holding the doll to her breast.) You must go to 
sleep at once, for mother Rosie will be up very early in the 
morning. (Enter Douglas up l.) H-s-h. (Sings as at rise 
of curtain, pelting the doll. ) 

Doug. (At the back of her chair, leaning over her.) Playing 
with a doll, mother? 

Mrs. Ruth. Douglas ! (Looking up and laughing quietly.) 
Yes. I had forgotten my gray hairs. I was a child again, 
like Rosie. We old folks grow young again in our grand- 
children. 

Doug. You've never grown old, mother. You've always 
been living the same sweet loving life. 

Mrs. Ruth. (With a quiet laugh.) Leave any woman alone 
with a doll five minutes and she will be holding it to her heart 
without knowing it. 

Doug. (With a sigh, up c.) Ah ! mother, I'm afraid some 
women outgrow it. Where is Constance ? 

Mrs. Ruth. In her room. (Rising.) 



6 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

Doug Is she, too, 'at work for Rosie's birthday ? 
Mrs Ruth. Well-no-not just now. She is dressing for 
the reception at Mrs. Warrington's. 

Dotig Ah ' I did not know she was going. 

MRS RUTH. You have forgotten it? You have barely time 

^DouG^Herbert will look after Constance I have another 
eno^ement ; I'm going to supper at the club. I must dress 
at once Good night, mother-if I do not see you again. 
Mrs Ruth Good night, my son. (He kisses her and moves 

t0 Sour '(Stafping. Aside.) I asked Constance not to go to- 

"Mrs. ^ U \lLe. LooMng after Douglasandsl^h^ 
head ) Doucrlas and Constance see less and less of each other 
every day I am very anxious for them. " Business and 
"S dS," and the « duties of society," are chang tag ^hem into 
mere acquaintances. Every time I have y.sited them fo the 
last nvo years I have found them more indifferent colder to 
IS/ other? Love, even like theirs, cannot live It is tumble 
—terrible ! But 1—2 can only look on and be silent, {Sits L. C.) 
Enter Herbert up R. 

MrTruth. (C (Ltr, R cf Herbert! What's the matter ? 

Her I've got to go to the ball to-night with Constance 

■ Uncle Douglas isn't going. He says he has an engagement ^at 

the club. He always has an engagement at the dub-or some- 

where-and he always leaves me to go out with Cons tance 

This is the fourth time in one week. I hate balls. {Crossing 

R 'm'rs Ruth You hate balls ! You were very fond of them 
last winter. You went nearly every evening 
Her It was different then. Where is Edith i 
Mrs.' Ruth. Edith 1 {Looking up significantly— then after a 
nause ) She's with Rosie. . 

P Her (After a pause.) Aunt Ruth, how much income 
ought a man to have before he can get married not enough to 
make a show on, but for him and his wife to live happily to- 

g Mrs Ruth. That depends, my dear boy, on how much they 
love each other. Two people who love each other very much 
can be exceedingly happy on a very moderate income 

Her. Well -I'm sure I love her enough to be happy on 
nothing at all. 

Mrs. Ruth. Her? , 

Her. Oh! Aunt Ruth— (crossing to her)— I cant talk to 
any one else about it ; but— (taking her hand; she looking up m 
his face smiling)— everybody can talk to you. 1 — 1 do love 
Edith. 

Mrs. Ruth. My dear boy, I know it. 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 7 

Her. My salary is only twelve hundred dollars a year ; but 
Uncle Douglas told me to-day he will raise it to fifteen hun- 
dred after the first of March. That's because I have been 
working so hard — ever since I first began to — to feel that Edith 
might share it with me. I've saved five hundred dollars since 
then. I never saved a cent before. I have been wearing my 
old clothes, and I have my gloves cleaned — I don't care wheth- 
er they smell of turpentine or not, when I go to balls, now, 
with Constance — and I've given up cigars. I do love Edith. 

Mrs. Ruth. You have chosen the very best way to make 
love to her ; working hard and saving your money for her sake. 
But I will speak to you as if I were her mother, Herbert ; for 
her own mother and her father lie side by side in the church- 
yard at Concord. Have you really thought what it means to 
marry a blind girl, like Edith V 

Her. (With enthusiasm increasing as he proceeds.) It 
means, Aunt Ruth, that I shall always have to take care of 
her, as if she were a little child ; it means that I shall be her 
whole world ; I shall be her protector ; she will depend upon 
me for everything ; I shall have to work for her, and oh ! how 
hard, I shall work, when she is at our home thinking of me. I 
love her all the more for being blind. 

Mrs. Ruth. You have thought about it, my boy. If Edith 
loves you, even her blindness need not keep you apart. 

Her. If — she loves me. (Sighs.) I — I can never tell whether 
she does or not. She doesn't seem to know the difference be- 
tween loving me and loving any of you. I might as well try to 
make love to little Rosie as to Edith. 

Mrs. Ruth. She knows as little about it as Rosie. 

Her. Yes. (With a smile.) That's because she's blind. I 
love her blindness. 

Mrs. Ruth. No one has ever spoken to her of love or mar- 
riage. She lives in a little world of her own. You must wait 
for her woman's nature to assert itself in her heart. 

Her. I thought, perhaps, you might help me a little. 

Mrs. Ruth. Help you ? 

Her. If you would talk to her about it, just to let her know 
that when /tell her — I love her — it isn't quite the same thing 
— as — as any of you loving her, you know. 

Mrs. Ruth. It is awkward for a young lover, isn't it, Her- 
bert ? Perhaps I can do something for you. But you are only 
twenty-two and Edith is only seventeen. You can both wait. 

Enter Constance up r. She is in full evening dress, cloak 
over her arm, fan, etc. (Crosses c.) 

Con. (As she enters.) Are you ready, Herbert ? Not dressed yet ? 

Her. Eh? — Oh! (Suddenly bolting across stage.) It 
won't take me ten minutes. (Aside.) I hate these balls. 

(Exit up R.) 

Con. The boy is always late now. (Taking up doll.) You 
have finished Rosie's doll. What a sweet little lady she is. 



8 YOUNG MRS. WIKTHROP. 

{Laughs lightly — then with a sigh.) I could not finish the doll 
I was dressing for Rosie. I have had no time to do anything 
for my child's birthday. I was obliged to send down town at 
the last moment, this afternoon — and — and — buy a present for 
her. (Sits R. c.) 

Mrs. Ruth. (Grossing R. C ) And here it is. Rosie will 
be delighted with it. 

Con. (Shaking her head sadly.) Rosie will love this doll 
better than that. Children seem to feel the difference between 
what is made for them with loving hands, and what is only 
bought with money. Rosie can look so far into one's heart 
with those great blue eyes of hers. I sometimes tremble when 
my child and I are together. 

Mrs. Ruth. (Tenderly.) When Rosie looks into your heart, 
Constance, I am sure she finds a great and true love there for 
her. 

Con. (Rises.) It is there — yes — it is there ; but so many 
other things are there, too — I — I sometimes fear the child 
cannot always find it. 

Mrs. Ruth, [a] We shall have a merry day to-morrow, 
Constance. Rosie will be awake long before breakfast. Edith 
and I have promised to be up as soon as she is, and bring her 
down to see the presents ; — and when you and Douglas come 
down — 

(Cons, suddenly strikes hell on table R. c.) 

Cons. I shall be up as early as you, mother. 

Mrs. Ruth. Rosie will wake before six. 

Enter Maid up l. e. 

Cons. (To Maid.) Have me called at five o'clock to-morrow, 
Jeanette. 

Maid. Yes, madam. (Exit up L.) 

Mrs. Ruth. You will not be in bed before three. 

Cons. If I can spare time for a fashionable ball to night, 
I need not rob my child of it on her birthday. I, too, shall 
be with Rosie all day, to-morrow. 

Mrs. Ruth. Oh ! we shall have a happy day, all of us. But 
I fear Edith may have some difficulty in getting Rosie to sleep, 
the child has so many plans in her head for to-morrow. I will 
go to them. I hope you will have a pleasant time this evening, 
Constance. Goodnight. (Crossing r.) 

Cons. (Kissing her.) Good night, mother, dear. (Exit Mrs. 
Ruth r. 1 e. Shall I go to Mrs. Warrington's to-night ? 
Douglas was very much in earnest when he asked me not to go. 
But he is going to his club. He is never at home. I must go. 
If I stay at home, I cannot help thinking. Oh ! if I had died be- 
fore his neglect began ! I — (slmely as if a more painful thought 
had come, into her mind), — I sometimes feel that Douglas and I — 
(sees the child's picture.) No ! Rosie ! She belongs to us both! 
She will hold us together. (Stands a moment in thought, then, 
smiling.) How prettily she threw her arms about my neck and 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 9 

kissed me good-night just now. Shall I go to Mrs. War- 
rington's ? 

Enter Maid up l. with a letter. 

Maid. A letter for Mr. Winthrop— by messenger. No 
answer, madam. 

Cons. I will give it to him. {Taking letter. Exit Maid.) 
Shall I go to-night? {Looking at letter in her hand. Raises 
it to her face as if attracted by the odor.) Violet! It is 
not a business letter. A lady's handwriting ! {She turns the 
letter.) A dove and a serpent as a crest — H. D. — from Mrs. 
Hepworth Dunbar. {Leaves note on table k. c, and crosses 
to L.) 

Enter Douglas, now in dress suit, upn. 

Doug. Constance ! {Stopping c.) 

Cons. Douglas ! (l. c.) 

Doug. You are in full dress, I see. 

Cons. Madam de Battiste's latest inspiration. Do you like 
it? 

Doug. It is a very becoming costume, my dear. 

Cons. You are in evening dress. You are going to accom- 
pany me ? 

Doug. I am engaged for a supper at the club with Dick 
Chetwyn. 

Cons. Jeanette just brought in a note for you — it is on the 
table. 

Doug. Ah ! {Turning to table. Constance watches him as 
he opens and reads letter.) 

Cons. {Turning away with her back toward him.) Anything 
important, Douglas ? 

Doug. {After looking across at her quietly, then placing the 
letter in his pocket.) Merely a business matter. {Turning to 
presents c. and h. c.) Rosie will be quite overwhelmed with 
her birthday presents to-morrow. 

Cons. {Aside.) Business! 

Doug. I ordered a little walnut bedstead — ah ! here it is. 
A dressing-table and mirror, with cut-glass perfumery bottles, 
and a box of cosmetics, and a tiny jewelry casket. {Reads card.) 
"Mrs. Richard Chetywn." A very characteristic present. 
(r. c.) Here is a magnificent doll, in full ball costume, with real 
lace and a long train, and a coiffure. Anotlier of our ultra- 
fashionable friends sent that, I suppose. It does seem a 
pity to put such ideas into the head of an innocent child. 
{Leans over and reads card.) " From Rosie's mamma." (He 
glances at Constance.) Forgive me, Constance, I was speak- 
ing thoughtlessly. Any expression of a mother's love is sacred 
to me. Constance — I — I am very sorry to see you in that cos- 
tume to-night. 

Cons. You did not wish me to go to Mrs. Warrington's. 

Doug. Mrs. Warrington's house is a centre of a certain kind 
of fashionable society in New York. The men are rich and 



10 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

fast, and the wives vie with the men in the display of their 
riches. Constance, you have never cared for this extremely 
" fashionable" circle until within a year or two. 

Cons. I had no reason to seek it. 

Doug. Reason ? 

Cons. Some women find, in the gayeties of this society, 
something to compensate them for what they do not find at 
home. 

Doug. {Quickly.) What do you mean, Constance 1 

Enter Maid with a card in an envelope. 

Maid. Madam — 

(Constance takes card. Exit Maid.) 

Cons. {Beading card.) "Mrs. Richard Chetywn" — {Turning 
card over.) " Dick is going some where to-night, so I'll come 
arouud and go to Mrs. Warrington's with yon." 

Doug. Constance ! {Rising.) It is my earnest wish that you 
should not go to the ball to-night. {Pause.) I — I am sorry that 
I am compelled to speak so strongly, but I — I insist. 

CONS. Am I to understand that you command me not to go ? 

Doug. I did not use that word, Constance. I will never 
use it. I have too much respect for you to do that. 

Cons. ( Aside. ) Respect ! {She drops into a chair, her face 
in her hands, on the back of the chair, lie crosses to her, looking 
down at her tenderly.) 

Doug. Constance — my wife ! When we were married, six 
years ago, in the old church at Concord, as we knelt to receive 
the blessing of the pastor — your own dear father — a ray of 
bright sunshine coming through the window fell upon our 
heads. For many a month after, that sunlight seemed to 
rest upon us, and when Rosie came, the pastor's blessing 
seemed to be fulfilled. Constance, I — I have tried to be a kind 
husband to you. 

Cons. A — kind — husband — yes. 

Doug. And you have been a true, sincere, and devoted wife 
to me ; yet, for the last two years or more, we have been drift- 
ing apart further and further. You speak of compensation in 
that fashionable world for something that you do not find at 
home. Are you likely to find anything there to compensate you 
for the happiness which you once found here '? Does Mrs. 
Warrington, or Mrs. Maxwell, or Mrs. Dunbar fulfil your idea 
of a truly happy woman ? No, Constance. 

Cons. Mrs. Dunbar is a leader of the circle. 

Doug. Yes. 1 believe she is the worst of the set. I am 
glad to know that you have no personal acquaintance with 
her. A woman who respects herself ought to avoid such a 
person. {Crosses K.) 

Cons. That is your opinion of Mrs. Hepworth Dunbar? 
{Rising.) 

Doug. It is. And I trust that my wife will never be seen 
in her company. {Looks at his watch.) But I am late. Con- 



YOUNG MBS. WINTHROP. 11 

stance — I — I was wrong to use the word "insist," a moment 
ago. I feel sure that you will stay at home to-night, not 
because I " insist," but because it is my earnest — wish. Good 
night. 
Cons. Good night. 

Douglas is moving up r. Constance stands l. Enter Bux- 
ton Scott up l., holding a huge package before him. 

Scott. {As lie enters.) Ah ! How is the happy mother, — and 
the father — to-night ? 

Cons, and Doug ! Mr. Scott. {Going to him.) 

Scott. Constance ! {Kissing her at one side of package,) 
Douglas ! {Looking out at other side of package.) I haven't 
a kiss for you. 

Cons. Another present for Rosie I 

Doug. From her godfather. 

Cons. Let me help you. 

Scott. Thauk you. (Putting it on chair u. c. Constance 
begins to unwrap it.) I brought that in my arms all the way. 
I was the proudest old bachelor in New York. 1 felt like a 
grandfather. 

Doug. Constance and I almost feel that you are Rosie's 
grandfather. 

Cons. Indeed we do. 

Scott. So do I. In fact I did have almost as much to do 
as either of her grandfathers with bringing her into the world. 
I helped along your courtship as much as a blundering old 
bachelor could. I patched up your lovers' quarrels and made 
peace between you — I think I may claim to be Rosie's grand- 
father. 

Cons. A beautiful new baby-house, with furniture and 
carpets and mirrors, complete. — I must kiss you again, — for 
Rosie. {Kissing him.) 

Scott. I shall drop in to-morrow if I can. You must let 
me have Douglas now for business. I'm his lawyer, you 
know, and we lawyers have to work night and day. {Tarns 
to Douglas r. c. apart.) I must speak with you at once. 

Doug. {Apart.) Come into the library. {Exeunt up R.) 

Cons. {Pleasantly.) I'll not go to Mrs. Warrington's. I'll 
go to bed early and be up fresh and bright with mother and 
Edith. Rosie and 1 will — {Stops suddenly , her expression chang- 
ing suddenly from a smile to a look of pain.) What was that 
letter from Mrs. Dunbar to my husband"? Not a word to me 
when he read it ! {Pause, c.) No, no, no ! I will not think 
of that. Douglas has become cold — but — I have never 
dreamed of anything like. that. No! — I — oh! if that, too, 
should come ! — if that, too, should come ! — I could not bear it. 
(Dropping into a chair, r. c. , her head falling on her arms.) 

Enter Mrs. Dick Chetwyn, in full evening dress, up i>. 

Mrs. Dick. Constance, my dear! 






12 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

Cons. {Suddenly arousing herself.) Ah ! Barbara ! 

Mrs. Dick. (In a tone of great anxiety.) Something wrong 
with your new costume, my darling V Doesn't it fit ? 

Cons. (Brushing tears from her eyes.) It is not that. 

Mrs. Dick. Oh ! I thought it was something serious. Your 
new dress is lovely, and your hair is perfection. Will your 
husband be ready soon ? The men are always late. (Crosses c.) 

Cons. He is not going this evening. 

Mrs. Dick. (l. c.) O — h! — that's what you're crying about. 
It's a long time since I cried because my husband wouldn't go 
with me anywhere. Dick says I've changed. He says I'm 
more likely to cry when he does go with me now. Dick goes 
one way and I go the other, so we're both of us perfectly 
happy. Buxton Scott called to see Dick one day. I happened 
to meet him in the hall. "Ah!" said he, " you're at home ; 
of course your husband isn't. Good afternoon." Ha-ha-ha! 
We two widows must go to the ball by ourselves, I suppose. 

CONS. -Herbert is going. But didn't you know V Mr. Win- 
throp is engaged for a supper at the club with your husband. 
(Grosses l., looking at toys, arranging them, etc.) 

Mrs. Dick. Oh ! is he ? (Crosses u.) Ha-ha-ha, I thought 
Dick was lying about it. He told me he was ffoing to take 
supper with Mr. Winthrop at the club. After his telling me 
that, it was the last thing I dreamed of his doing. Poor Dick ! 
it's a shame not to believe him when he does tell the truth ; 
but I dure say they are both lying. 

Cons. Oh ! Barbara ! how can you trifle about such serious 
things ? 

Mrs. Dick. Well, you see, my dear, I know all about these 
men, and so'll you by the time you have had two husbands, as 
I have. My first husband was a physician ; my second is a 
member of the bar. A doctor aud a lawyer can teach you 
about all one woman needs to know on the subject of husbands. 
Dick makes up whatever Bob omitted in my education, and 
when I lorget anything Bob taught me Dick reminds me of it. 
Between Bob and Dick together, I'm a graduate — M.A. — Mis- 
tress of Arts. 

Cons. Ah — I remember — your first husband's name was 
Robert. 

Mrs. Dick. M-m. Everybody called me Mrs. Bob then, just 
as they call me Mrs. Dick now. I never could rise to the dig- 
nity of my husband's full name. I dare say next time I shall 
be Mrs. Jack or Mrs. Tom. Yes, my dear, after you've mar- 
ried the second time, you'll know a great deal too "much about 
these men to worry yourself about 'em. If your dress fits, and 
you haven't got a headache, no little matrimonial obscurities 
will ever affect your spirits. Keep your eyes open, my dear, 
and smile. I mean, keep one eye open and the other shut. 
When your husband gets round on the blind side of you, open 
that eye quietly, when he isn't looking. It's great fun ! Ha- 
ha-ha. Bob told me one evening— it was the night of an Arion 



YOUNG MKS, WINTHKOP. 13 

ball — no, that wasn't Bob — it was Dick. Dick said to me that 
evening — yes, it was Bob, too. It was four years ago — no — 
I was a widow then — one, two — {Counting on her fingers) — three, 
four — that was six years ago. " Barbara, my dear," said Dick 
— I mean, said Bob — " I have an important engagement with 
a client — no — with a patient — to-night.' '" What sort of a law- 
suit is it?" said I — I would say — " What disease is she suffer- 
ing from?" said I. Then he quoted from some musty old law- 
books — no, he ran over a lot of scientific medical terms. 
" Bob," said I, shaking my finger, " it won't do, you can't de- 
ceive me, Dick" — Bob — well, it was one of 'em. A woman 
that's been the wife of a doctor and a lawyer both gets awfully 
mixed up about professional engagements outside of business 
hours. (Constance has been on her knees before doll-house 
arranging furniture, etc.) 

Cons. (Rises.) Barbara — I — I don't think I'll go to the ball 
to-night. 

Mils. Dick. Not go? 

Cons. You know, to-morrow is Rosie's birthday. I wish to 
be as fresh and as bright as possible to enjoy the whole day 
with her. Herbert can go to Mrs. Warrinoton's with you. 

Mrs. Dick. Well, I've never had any children, but — 

Cons. If you bad you would feel as I do. Ah, Barbara, 
Providence has denied to you the greatest blessing it ever 
brings to a woman. Heaven has been very kind to me. (Turn- 
ing to house and arranging it.) I shall not go. 

Mrs. Dick. You'll break Madam de Battiste's heart if you 
don't appear in that costume to-night. Mrs. Dunbar — 

Cons. (Looking up suddenly.) Mrs. Dunbar! (Mrs. Dick 
stops and looks at her inquiringly. Constance proceeds quietly.) 
What of her? 

Mrs. Dick. She has a new costume just arrived, direct from 
Paris. She is supposed to be the finest dressed woman in 
America. But Madam de Battiste told me that when you ap- 
peared in the same drawing-room with her to-night, Mrs. 
Dunbar and the Parisian dressmakers would lose their reputa- 
tion. I told Madam de Battiste she might rob the Parisian 
dressmakers of their reputation, but Mrs. Hepworth Dunbar will 
never lose hers — again. By the by, my dear — ha-ha-ha-ha — 
speaking of Mrs. Dunbar — I'm jealous of you. 

Cons. Jealous?— of me? 

Mrs. Dick. M — m. Mrs. Dunbar thinks a great deal more 
of your husband than she does of mine. (Constance starts to 
her feet and moves down l. c. front.) Everybody is talking about 
it. Dick was her favorite till a few weeks ago, you know ; but 
his nose was put out of joint the moment Douglas appeared as 
a rival. Ha ! ha ! ha ! We're all laughing at Dick. Ha ! ha ! 
ha ! I had such a joke on him last evening. He told me 
he was going to drop in and see Mrs. Dunbar. I remarked that 
I expected a gentleman to call on me, and he departed with my 
blessing. Ha-ha-ha-ha. He was back in twenty minutes. 



14 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

" Wasn't sue in?" said L " Yes," said lie, ■" she was, but just 
as I reached the foot of the steps Douglas Winthrop was enter- 
ing the door. I thought I might be intruding. That's 
the second time this week. When I called on Tuesday I found 
Winthrop in the parlor." Ha-ha-ha-ha. Your husband 
has cut mine out. You ought to be proud of him, my dear. 
The gentleman that was to call upon me— didn't. Dick and I 
spent the whole evening together. It wasn't so very bad 
either. It seemed novel to us, you know — we found each other 
■quite interesting. 

Cons. {With suppressed feeling, L.) You are quite sure that 
Mrs. Dunbar will be at Mrs. Warrington's this evening. 

Mrs. Dick. Sure of it. She ordered her costume by eable 
especially for this occasion. 

Cons. (Aside.) If she and I should come face to face to-night 
we would understand each other, without a word. (Aloud 
suddenly.) I will go to Mrs. Warrington's. (Enter Herbert up 
R.) Oh ! Herbert, you are ready. Mrs. Chetwyn is going with 
us. (Gathering cloak, fan, etc., trith nervous movement and 
speaking rapidly.) We will send back your carriage, Barbara. 
Mine has been waiting this half hour. Come. (Exit quickly 
and nervously up L. Mrs. Dick is following her, also Herbert, 
who is pulling at his back collar-button, working at his wrist- 
bands, etc., and looking generally uncomfortable.) 

Mrs. Dick, (Stopping and looking back at Herbert,) Her- 
bert ! 

Her. Mrs. Dick. 

Mrs. Dick. I know your secret. You're in love. Come 
here. (Beckoning to him. He approaches her. She s'iffs the 
•air.) Benzine. Give me your hand. (He looks at her in some 
surprise; then holds out Ms hand. She puts it daintily to her 
nose.) Economy — you're very much in love — mended all over 
— one place with black thread, 

Her. I did that myself just now — Aunt Ruth and Edith 
were both busy. 

Mrs. Dick. Is Edith busy now ? 

Her. No. 

Mrs. Dick. You needn't go with us. 

Her. (Eagerly.) I needn't ? 

Mrs. Dick. You follow us. I'll leave my carriage at the 
door for you. We'll give you ten minutes to make love. We'll 
wait for you in the cloak-room. By-bye — (going — stops) Ha- 
ha-ha — I saw it coming on you three months ago. I'm familiar 
with the symptoms. I've seen lots of men in love. I married 
two of 'em. {Exit vp L.) 

Her. Mrs. Dick is a nice woman. (Looks outn.) Edith is 
coming. She has just left little Rosie. I wish she was half as 
fond of me as she is of Rosie. 

Enter Edith r. 1. e. Herbert stands down l. beyond table, 
looking up at her. She touches the dooiway lightly, feeling 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 15 

her way ; then moving up R. c. until her hand rests upon 
the back of a chair. 

Edith. {To herself.) I thought the little thing never would 
go to sleep to-night. Ha-ha-ha — (laughing lightly.) She is 
so excited about her birthday. Now I can finish her present. 
(She crosses, touching another chair lightly on the way and moves 
to table l. c, taking up a little lace bed-spread.) 

Her. (As site is crossing.) She is smiling. Edith is always 
happy. 

Edith. (Standing at right of table and facing Herbert and 
setting.) I wonder what Herbert is doing now ? 

Her. (Aside.) What pretty eyes she has ! 

Edith. I always feel a little lonely when Herbert is away. 

Her. (Aside.) I wonder what she is thinking about. 

Edith. (Listening suddenly and smiling.) There's someone 
here. (Laughing lightly and holding out her 7iand.) Let me 
guess. (Herbert reaches forward his hand and touches the 
back of her hand gently with one finger.) Herbert ! — pleased) — I 
thought you had gone to the ball. 

Her. How do you always know when L touch your hand, 
Edith ? 

Edith. Something tells me, Herbert. 

Her. Something tells you ? 

Edith. I seem to feel that it is you. Your touch is 
always so different from the others. It seems so — so gen- 
tle — and so — 

Her. So — tender — and — and — loving ? 

Edith. Yes, Herbert. 

Her. I do love you, Edith. 

Edith. I'm glad of that, Herbert. I like to have you all 
love me. 

Her. Yes — of course, but — the others you know — we all 
love you— certainly — but the rest of them — it's different with 
me. (A slight pause as if waiting for her to speak.) The rest of 
them — except Douglas, they're women, you know — and little 
Rosie. 

Edith. Well, can't they love me just as well as you ? 

Her. Yes — they — of course they can love you as well as I 
— but — my love is a different kind of love from theirs. 

Edith. What do you mean — different — Herbert 1 (She sits 
L. c.) 

Her. (Aside.) It's no use. I can't make love to her. 
(Aloud.) Ask Aunt Ruth what the difference is, Edith. Is that 
a present for Rosie? 

Edith. Yes. (Breaking thread, etc.) It is just finished. A 
little lace spread for the doll's bedstead her papa bought. 

Her. It is very pretty. I am going to take a holiday to- 
morrow, and spend the whole day with you and Rosie. 

Edith. Oh ! I'm so glad. You are very fond of Rosie. 

Her. Yes, I'm very fond, indeed, of — Rosie. 

Edith. You spend all the time you can with her and me. 



16 YOUNG MKS. WINTHROP. 

Her. Yes — with her — and — and — you. 

Edith. What long soft hair Rosie has — and her face is as 
smooth as a peach, and it's as sweet too. She is beautiful. 

Her. You see so many beautiful things, Edith ! You never 
wish that you could see with your eyes, do } t ou ? 

Edith. Why should I ? No, indeed ! I am always happy 
— like everybody else in the world. I sometimes dream, Her- 
bert that there are people who are not happy. I dream that 
people are sometimes unkind to each other. Of course, I know 
it is only a dream ; for when I wake up everybody is so gentle 
and good, and so happy ; but something whispers to me it is 
better to be as I am. I do not wish to see. 

Her. We all have eyes for you, Edith ; even little Rosie — 

Edith. Oh ! Rosie's eyes are mine. She leads me about 
everywhere and tells me of everything, all day long. 

Her. I wish I could lead you around everywhere, as Rosie 
does. (Crosses c.) 

Edith. You are not always with me. 

Her. I would like to be with you always. 

Edith. Would you, Herbert ? 

Her. Edith — I — I hope to have a little home of my own 
some day. 

Edith. A home of your ow r n ? Do you mean — you — you 
will go away from here ? 

Her. Why — yes — I — I — I hope to have — a — wife. 

Edith. Wife! Oh! Herbert !( Wit h warm, feeling putting 
her arms about his neck.) You must never leave us. 

Her. Leave you ? no — I — I don't want to leave you. 

Edith. Oh — can Rosie and I go with you to your little 
home ? (Sitting l. c.) 

Her. Well — you — of course, if — if Rosie — but — you — see — 
when a young man gets married — I — I love Rosie very much — 
but — you — she — we — you'd better ask Aunt Ruth about that, 
too, Edith. I must go now. Good night. 

Edith. Good night, Herbert. (Reaching up her face for 
him to kiss her. He leans doicn, about to kiss her lips ; he 
hesitates, then raises her hand and kisses it gently.) 

Her. Good night. (Exit up L.) 

Edith. {Aside) Herbert will never be lonely in his little 
home with so many of us ; but I — I — I wish that other one 
wouldn't be there. 

(Enter Mrs. Ruth r. 1. e. and crosses to Edith.) It is long 
after bed-time, my darling. If Rosie should wake up she would 
miss you. You have finished the spread, I see. (Taking spread 
from Edith, who sits in deep thought.) It is very nicely done, 
my dear. 

Edith. Mother ? 

Mrs. Ruth. Edith. 

Edith. What — different kinds— (rising) — of love— are there ? 

Mrs. Ruth. Different kinds of love? There are many 
kinds, my pet : a mother's love ; a father's, or a sister's, or 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 17 

brother's, or a friend's. Then there's another love, Edith — the 
love that two good people have for each other when they are 
married. 

Edith. Do two people always get married when they love 
each other ? 

Mrs. Ruth. Not always. They generally do. 

Edith. Why ? 

Mrs. Ruth. They feel lonely. They want to be together 
— to comfort and to take care of each other. But you mustn't 
sit up any longer. {Walking with her r.) I'll come to you 
as soon as I arrange the little bedstead. (Edith goes out 
R. 1. E.) I have given the little pet her first lesson in love. 
(Looking after her.) That's quite enough for the present, I 
think. (Turning and crossing vp l.) Herbert does need a 
little help. (Kneeling at a top bedstead, arranging spread, dc. 
Edith is heard calling "Mother" without. Mrs. Ruth starts 
up. Re-enter Edith.) 

Edith. Mother ! oh ! mother ! (Rushing across stage ex- 
citedly.) 

Mrs. Ruth. (Intercepting her l. c.) My child. 

Edith. Rosie ! Rosie ! She is not asleep — nor awake — she 
is struggling — and — 

Mrs. Ruth. Calm yourself, my child. Rosie is dreaming, 
perhaps. She has been so excited all day. 

Edith. She is so cold and she breathes so hard. 

Mrs. Ruth. Come, Edith. (She goes out with Edith r. 1. e.) 

Enter Buxton Scott and Douglas, up r. 

Scott. (As he enters and pastes across L.) That's the only 
obstacle in our way now, Douglas. The directors of the bank 
are willing to settle it. 

Doug. (Crossing clown to table l. c.) I'll do all I can in the 
matter. 

Scott. See you in the morning. (Waving Jiis hand.) 

Doug. (Waving his hand.) At nine. (Exit Scott up l. 
Douglas takes note from his pocket.) What hour did she say ? 
(Reads.) " Any time before eleven." I must send a line to 
Chetwyn (writes), and tell him it is impossible for me to 
join him at supper this evening. (Strikes bell. Enter Maid 
up l. Douglas encloses note in envelope, directs it, and rises. 
Goes up and hands note to Maid.) Tell Morgan to take this 
to the Union Club — immediately. (Exit Maid. He looks at 
his watch.) Now for Mrs. Dunbar's. (Exit up L.) 

Curtain. 



18 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 



ACT SECOND. 

Scene — The Same. Night. A single lamp or drop - light 
upon table. At rise of curtain enter Douglas up l. , in 
some haste, and with expression of anxiety. He is still in 
evening dress and has Ids overcoat on his arm and hat in 
hand, as if having entered too hastily to throw them aside. 
He losses them on chair as he proceeds. He is followed by 
Maid. 

Doug. {As he crosses c.) Eleven o'clock, you say ? 

Maid. Yes, sir. Miss Rosie was taken ill about the time 
you left the house, sir. 

Doug. Did Dr. Mellbanke come promptly ? 

Maid. Yes, sir. And he is still here. 

Doug. Still here ! (Looks at his watch) Two o'clock. Dr. 
Mellbanke still here. It must be serious. (Going quickly 
doion R. Dr. Mellbanke steps in R. 1 e., raising his hand 
to check him.) The child, Doctor ! — Rosie ! 

DOCTOR. She is sleeping. 

Doug. Is there danger ? 

Doctor. I hope for the best. 

Doug. Ah! ( With a sigh of relief ', walking L.) What is it, 
Doctor? (The Maid goes out, with coat and hat.) 

Doctor. Just such an attack as she had two years ago. 

Doug. She recovered from that in a few days. 

Doctor. I trust she will do the same in this case. 

Doug. Has she suffered much ? 

Doctor. She is now entirely free from pain. 

Doug. Can I go to the room, Doctor ? 

Doctor. She is in a quiet sleep. We must take every ad- 
vantage of it. 

Doug. I might relieve her mother. 

Doctor. The child's grandmother is with her. 

Doug. Ah — Constance is resting. 

Doctor. Mrs. Winthrop, herself, has not returned yet. 

Doug. Not — returned ? 

Doctor. She is at Mrs. — Warrington's — I believe. 

Doug. (With a slight start.) At Mrs. Warrington's? 

Doctor. Up to half an hour ago I thought the case a very 
harmless one, and I advised them not to send for Mrs. 
Winthrop. But it took a more serious turn, and we sent for 
her. She has not arrived yet. 

Doug. (Aside.) Constance did go ! 

Doctor. I thought it was she that entered, when I heard 
you at the door. I came down stairs to ask her not to go to 
the child at present. Mrs. Winthrop will be somewhat ex- 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 19 

cited of coarse — returning from a — a social festivity — under 
such — such unusual circumstances. 

Dodg. Yes. ( With some bitterness in his tone.) From a 
fashionable ball-room to the bedside of a sick child is an ab- 
rupt change — for a mother. 

Doctor. Will you kindly say to Mrs. Wintlirop, for me, 
when she arrives, that the little one is sleeping and the utmost 
quiet is necessary. Her grandmother is taking every care of 
her. If Mrs. Wintlirop will, for the present, kindly refrain 
from coming to the room — 

Doug. I will tell her. 

Doctor. It will be better for the child. (Exit R. 1 e.) 

Doug. Better for the child ! — that its mother should not 
enter it's sick-room in a rustling silk and a dragging train — 
fresh from the glare of a ball-room. 

Enter Mrs. Ruth r. 1 e. 

Mrs. Ruth. (r. c.) Douglas. 

Doug. (r. c.) Mother. Rosie is still sleeping? 

Mrs. Ruth. Yes, gently, and without pain. The Doctor is 
with her now. I am glad the servant found you, Douglas. We 
sent to the club for yoa, at first. 

Doug. I was not there. How — how did you know where I 
was, mother '? 

Mrs. Ruth. I happened to overhear you say to Mr. Scott 
that you woull go to — to a Mrs. — a Mrs. Dunbar's. 

Doug. Ah ! yes, I see. 

Mrs. Ruth. When the servant returned and said you were 
not at the club, I thought you might be at that lady's house, 
so Dr. Mellbanke sent there for you. 

Doug. Mother — I — I have a — a favor to ask of you. Say 
nothing to (Constance about my having been at Mrs. Dunbar's 
to-night. 

Mrs. Ruth. Say — nothing — to — Constance ! My son ! 

Doug. Do not misunderstand me, mother. 

Mrs. Ruth. No, Douglas ! — of course not. I heard Mr. 
Scott tell you that it was positively necessary for you to go 
to Mrs. Dunbar's — some business matter. 

Doug. Yes, mother, it was, and the cause of my going 
would bring deep pain to Constance, something, indeed, harder 
to bear than mere pain. 

Mrs. Rutfi. Nothing can be so important, Douglas, as per- 
fect confidence between husband and wife. 

Doug. Mother, please do not say anything on this subject 
to her. 

Mrs. Ruth. Well, I — I promise you. I would not have 
mentioned it any way. Constance should have returned by 
this time. 

Doug. It is too early, yet, to leave the most brilliant re- 
ception of the season. 



20 YOUKG MRS. WINTHROP. 

Mrs. Ruth. Early ? — with such a message ? What do you 
mean, Douglas? 

Enter Maid up l. 

Maid. Thomas is returned, madam. 

Mrs. Ruth. And Mrs. Winturop? 

Maid. Mrs. Winthrop had left the house before Thomas 
got there, madam. 

Mrs. Ruth. Ah. She has taken Mrs. Chetwyn home. 

(Exit Maid.) 

Doug. They are discussing the merits of the last new 
costumes. (Sitting L. C.) 

Mrs. Ruth. Douglas, I — I never heard you speak of your 
wife in a bitter tone. 

DOUG. My — wife — went to a " fashionable " woman's house, 
to-night, against the earnestly expressed desire of her hus- 
band. She is now away from her sick child. The physician 
has just requested me to ask her not to go to its bedside when 
she returns. I am a husband and a father ! Do you wonder 
at my bitter tone? 

Mrs. Ruth. (After a moment's pause.) Douglas — my son. 

Doug. Mother. (She crosses to him and stands at his chair, 
looking down at him.) 

Mrs. Ruth. May I speak frankly to you ? 

Doug. Need you ask me that ? 

Mrs. Ruth. Even a mother fears to touch upon some sub- 
jects. I have long wished to say what is in my heart, but I — 
I have hesitated. 

Doug. It must be good for me to know all there is in such 
a heart as yours. (Taking her hand.) Through childhood 
and manhood I have never found anything but love there. 

Mrs. Ruth. My darling boy ! 

Doug. I am a boy again, mother. Speak to me — just as 
you used to. (He has placed her in the chair and is sitting on 
a stool beside her.) 

Mrs. Ruth. I — I feel to-night, Douglas, that a crisis may 
be at hand, in the life of the two beings most dear to me in all 
the world. You are my only child — no ! — my only son — for she 
too is my child — my daughter. I have known Constance since 
she was a little girl. I know how pure — how full of tender- 
ness and love — her nature is. Yon were very happy — at first. 

Doug. Very — at first. 

Mrs. Ruth. There was contentment and love in your 
home. A change has been gradually stealing over you both. 

Doug. — Yes, mother !— a change. 

Mrs. Ruth. Constance has become more and more what is 
called a " fashionable" woman. 

Doug. Yes. 

Mrs. Ruth. Her child and her husband do not, now, re- 
ceive all her attention, as they once did. 

Doug. No. 

Mrs. Ruth. Her home has become less and less the centre 
of her thoughts. 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 21 

Doug. My dear mother ! — Speak to Constance. A single 
word from you — 

Mrs. Ruth. No — my son — it is to you that I will speak ! 

Doug. To— me ? 

Mrs. Ruth. It is your fault, Douglas, not hers. If such 
a woman as Constance is not the wife and mother she should 
be, it is her husband's fault. 

Doug. My — fault! (Rising and crossing c.) 

Mrs. Rutiu (After a slight pause, assuming a lighter tone.) 
You did not dine at home this evening, Douglas. You dropped 
in at Delmonico's with a friend, you told me. 

Doug. (After looking up at her as if a, little puzzled at the 
change of subject.) Yes! — we had a matter of business to talk 
over. 

Mrs. RuTn. You were absent from home all yesterday 
evening. 

Doug. A private meeting of our Board of Directors. 

Mrs. Ruth. You had a gentleman's dinner-party here on 
Tuesday evening. 

Doug. Some capitalists to meet the president of a western 
railroad. 

Mrs. Ruth. You — you never return to your home in the 
daytime. 

Doug. Business men never do that. (Crosses R. c.) We 
lunch down-town, of course. 

Mrs. Ruth. Of course. On Monday evening — 

Doug. I ran over to Philadelphia, Monday afternoon — a 
large contract for coal and iron. (Sitting R. C.) 

Mrs. Ruth. (Rises and crosses to him.) I have now been 
here two months, Douglas. Your wife never sees you in the 
daytime, except on Sunday ; and only three times since 1 came 
have you spent an evening quietly at home with her. 

Doug. The constant pressure upon the time of a business 
man — 

Mrs. Ruth. Your father was a business man, Douglas! a 
successful one, too. He left you a large fortune, but he made 
me a very happy wife. He never forgot that his wife and 
child were more to him than all the triumphs of his business 
life. Remember your own childhood. Remember the many 
happy hours your father spent with you and me in our home. 
The trials of his daily work never made those hours less bright. 
Even your father's successes in business did not conflict with 
our domestic happiness. 

Doug. Those times were different, mother. 

Mrs. Ruth. No, my son ! Domestic love in those days 
withered and died in the same hot fever as now. You have 
caught the disease and your father escnped it — that is all. Be- 
lieve me, there are as many men to-day as then, rich and suc- 
cessful men, who do not neglect their families for the sake of 
making " money" — who do not sacrifice their wives and their 
children and all their own holiest affections — 



22 YOUNG MRS. WINTHEOP. 

Doug. Sacrifice! 

Mrs. Ruth. Yes, Douglas, sacrifice ! — 

Doug. Surely you do not think that I — 

Mrs. Ruth. That is what you are doing, my son. Your 
wife has become almost a stranger to you. Her heart is slowly 
starving for want of your love. She is turning in her loneli- 
ness to the excitements of fashionable life. What effect must 
this daily separation have upon a woman like Constance? 
(Goes up c.) You have given her a magnificent house to live 
in, but you've given her no home. 

Doug. Mother ! 

Mrs. Ruth. For months you and she have been growing 
colder to each other every day. 

Doug. Colder and colder — yes. 

Mrs. Ruth. Now — (She hesitates.) 

Doug. Now— well? 

Mrs. Ruth. Your child alone holds you together. 

Doug. Our child ! If she were to be taken away — ! 

Mrs. Ruth. Then, Douglas, the holy grief of a father and 
mother would bring you and Constance together. If that 
great sorrow were ever to come upon you, it would bring its 
compensation. Two hearts never know all there is of love 
until they have suffered together. 

Doug. (After a pause, and holding her hand in both his o>rn.) 
This same kind hand that led me when I was a boy shall lead 
me now, mother. (Rising.) I have been cruel to Constance. 
She shall not be without a home hereafter. I will be her com- 
panion — her husband! As soon as she returns I will confess 
the wrong I have done her. Our love shall have a new and a 
stronger life than ever — from this night. 

Mrs. Ruth. When you speak like that I seem to hear your 
father's own voice. 

Doug. (Walking r. with her, 7ds arm about her waist.) I 
will try to honor his memory by making Constance as happy 
a wife as he made you. We shall both bless you for it, 
mother ! 

Mrs. Ruth. My boy ! (Reaching up her face. He kisses her 

Exit Mrs. Ruth, r. 1 e. 

Doug. (Looking after Iter.) "Her children arise up and 
call her blessed." (Exit after her, R. 1 e. A moment's pause 
the stage empty. ) 

Enter Constance, up l. 

Cons. Back again! (With a weary air, throwing aside her 
cloak.) How quiet the house is ! It's no use going to bed ; I 
cannot sleep. (Dropping into chair before fire, R.) I wish 
these " social gayeties," as ihey call them, could go on forever. 
No matter how much I go out, or how bright the company is, 
it always ends in this; I am alone again, and I — I can't 
stop thinking. Oh !— I wish I could — I wish I could ! (Looks 
into fire.) Mr. Chetvvyn was at the reception this evening; 



YOUNG MES. WINTHROP. 23 

Douglas sent him word lie could not meet him at the club. 
He sent the messnge after receiving that note from Mrs. Dun- 
bar — she was not there to-night ! Oh ! — why must I keep 
thinking — thinking? (Starting to her feet and moving c, 
pauses.) Perhaps I am wronging him. Yes. No — no! — I 
will not believe it — I have not lost his love ! There is some- 
thing I do not understand. I will speak to Douglas about it 
in the morning. (Smiling.) It will all come right. I must 
get to sleep as soon as I can, to be up bright and early with 
Rosie. I will peep in at my little darling before I go to sleep. 

(Going toward door, R. 1 e.) 

Enter Edith, k. 1 e. ; also Herbert, up l. 

Cons. Edith ! 

Edith. Oh, Constance ! you have come back. 

Cons. Why are you up at this hour? 

Edith. I couldn't sleep. They told me to go to my room. 
But I was so unhappy about Rosie — 

Cons. Rosie! 

Edith. Oh ! — you do not know ? 

Cons. Know what, Edith — I do not know what ? 

Edith. The servant was sent to tell you — he — 

Cons. Ah ! (A half-suppressed scream.) Rosie ! — Rosie ! 
She is not well ! (She hurries past Edith and out r. 1 e. 
under gre.at excitement.) 

Her. (Joining Edith up R. c.) The servant must have 
missed us, Edith. What is it? 

Edith. Rosie is ill. The doctor is here. They sent me 
away. 

Re-enter Mrs. Ruth icith Constance, r. 1 e. Mrs. Ruth is 
leading Iter in, holding one of Constance's hands, and her 
arm about her waist. Constance is under great emotion. 

Mrs. Ruth. You must calm yourself, my dear child. You 
must calm yourself! Dr. Mellbanke is right. 

Cons. Yes — I know — I know. (Moving up L. c.) 

Mrs. Ruth, (c.) You shall go to her, presently. But she 
is sleeping very quietly. The slightest noise might — 

Cons. The doctor is right — he is right. I am excited ! I 
have just returned from where people are dancing and 
laughing. I would endanger the life of my child ! (Sink- 
ing into chair at table, R. c.) My own child ! Douglas — 
my husband ! ask him to come to me, mother ; ask him to 
come to me. 

Mrs. Ruth. I will — I will. 

Cons. Tell Douglas I want him near me — I want his arm 
about me, mother. 

Mrs. Ruth. Whatever happens, trust to Ms love. It will 
always support and comfort you! — my daughter! (Kissing 
her ; she then turns to Herbert, c. , speaking apart.) Her- 
bert, Dr. Mellbanke wishes you to go for Dr. Holden — at once. 



24 YOUNG MRS. WLNTHROP. 

Her. (Apart.) A consultation ! 

Mrs. Ruth. H-s-h. (Her finger to her lips.) Dr. Mell- 
banke wishes to advise with him. (Herbert turns up stage 
and exit l. Mrs. Ruth crosses r.) I will speak to Douglas, 
Constance (Exit R. 1 E.) 

Cons. (Taking off her jewels, etc., nervously, and dropping 
them on the table, before Iter.) Oh, how I hate them! How I 
hate them ! Why did I go to-night? My husband! — I never 
longed for your love as I do now. 

(EDiTn makes her way across to Constance.) 

Edith. Constance. (Laying her hand on her shoulder.) 

Cons. Edith — sister ! 

Edith. I am glad you have come hack. Rosie was talking 
to me about you before she fell asleep. 

Cons. You have been where / should have been to-night. 
( Taking Edith's hand and kissing it. Edith sturts slightly and 
puts her other hand to Constance's cheek.) What did Rosie 
say, Edith ? 

Edith. You are crying, Constance. (Sinking to her knees 
beside her, with her arms about her.) Don't cry. The last 
word Rosie said, before she fell asleep, was — " Mamma." She 
loves you very mucb. She often, often tells me so. Don't 
cry, Constance. 

Cons. Did her papa come home before she went to sleep? 

Edith. No. Mother sent to the club for him, at first, but 
he was not there. It took a long time to send to the other 
place, and Rosie was asleep when he came. 

Cons. The — the other place ; — where ? 

Edith. To — to some lady's house 

Cons. Some — some lady's — house? 

Edith. I forget the name — but you would know — Mrs. — 
Mrs. — Dun — Dun — 

Cons. Dunbar ! 

Edith. Yes — that's the name. 

Cons. Mother — sent — to see if — if Douglas was at — at Mrs. 
Dunbar's ? 

Edith. Yes. Fortunately he was there. I'm so glad you 
have both come back. It semis as if you ought to be together 
to-night. Don't cry, Constance. (Reaching tip with her arms 
about Constance's neck, as the latter sits rigidly looking away.) 
Rosie will be so <rlad to see you when she wakes up. The 
Doctor says she will soon get well. (Her voice breaking as she 
speaks, and finally dropping her head into Constance's lap, 
weeping.) Don't cry. 

Cons. You must go to bed, Edith, at once. (Rising with 
arm aboxit Edith and leading her up r., almost choking as 
she speaks, but controlling herself by an effort.) It is after two 
o'clock. 

Edith. Oh, I cannot sleep, Constance — I cannot sleep. Do 
not send me away. 

Cons. You— you must go to your room, Edith. 



YOUNG MRS. WHSTTHROP. 25 

Edith. If you wish it, Constance. 

Cons. Yes ; good night. 

Edith. Good night. (Kissing each other. Exit Edith up 

R. Constance moves down and across l ; supports herself 
by a chair l. c. ) 

Cons. I — I cannot breathe — I — it is growing dark ! — I — 
Douglas— my husband ! — my heart is breaking! (Burying her 
face in her hands.) 

Enter Douglas r. 1 e. 

Doug. Constance — (Sees her emotion and crosses to Iter rap- 
idly.) My dear Constance ! You are unstrung by this sudden 
news. You are nervous. Be seated. (She drops into the 
chair.) Command yourself, my darling. 

Cons. Yes — (drawing up rigidly) — I — I will command my- 
self. 

Doug. Let us hope for the best. Dr. Mellbanke says that 
Rosie may awake from from her sleep refreshed and on the 
road to recovery. 

Cons. (Aside.) Summoned from that woman's house to the 
bedside of his sick child ! 

Doug. This night will be the beginning of a new and a 
happy life for you and me, Constance — the beginning of a 
deeper and stronger love than we have ever known before. 
Rosie's future will be all the brighter for it. I have not been 
such a husband to you, of late years, as I ought. My feverish 
haste to make a larger fortune has led to what has seemed to 
you neglect ; — and it was none the less neglect because I was 
unconscious of it. I have allowed business considerations to 
outweigh all that is best in a man's life. 

Cons. (Aside.) Business considerations ! (Rising.) 

Doug. Our love has been only flickering. It has not died 
out. We will be companions hereafter. 

Cons. (Aside.) Companions ! 

Doug. You do not answer me, Constance. (A pause. She 
maintains her silence rigidly, looking away from Jiiift.) You are 
still silent? (Douglas stands looking at her a moment, and 
then crosses r. c. s'owly. He stops and looks down in thought.) 
Have I discovered my fault too late ? 

Cons. At that woman's house I 

(Dr. Mellbanke enters R. 1 e. , and stops, looks first at Con- 
stance, then at Douglas. The latter turns to speak.) 

Doug. Constance — my — wife — I — (Dr. Mellbanke ad- 
vances, taps him on the shoulder, and beckons to him quietly. 
Douglas starts and stoj)s, as if a sudden fear checked him. 
Dr. Mellbanke glances at Constance and motions silence on 
his lips. Douglas starts with a short, quick breath. Constance 
turns suddenly at the sound, and looks at them boih. The Doc- 
tor beckons to Douglas out of room, quietly takes his arm and 
walks out toith him R. 1 e. Constance wavers a moment on her 



26 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

feet ; then gives a quick, sharp scream, as if suddenly comprehend 
ing the truth. She staggers across right, front, trying to reach 
door at it. 1 e. Douglas reappears.) 

Cons. Rosie — not — not — 

Doug. Be — be strong, my darling — be strong ! 

Cons. Rosie is— she is — {Staggering. Douglas supports 
her.) 

Doug. It — is — over. (She sinks into the chair, at table. 
He stands over her, looking down tenderly.) She passed away 
in her sleep. My wife ! (Bends down, as if to embrace her. She 
looks up into Ids face with a cold, half-dazed expression, then 
turns from him and sinks with her head upon her arms. 
Douglas withdraws from her slowly, tJien speaks.) The last — 
link — broken ! 

CUKTAIN. 



ACT THIRD. 

Scene — Drawing-room. Door up it. with hall or another apart- 
ment at back. Door it. 1 e. Discovered : Constance sit- 
ting l. c, and Edith on a low stool by her side. Constance 
is dressed in black ; Edith in white, trimmed with black. 

Edith. I have been thinking about Douglas and you, Con- 
stance, almost all the time, to-day and yesterday. I dreamed 
about you last night. It seems very, very sad for Douglas to 
go away to Europe to-day — all by himself. 

Cons. Yes, Edith ; it is sad. 

Edith. He will be very lonely ; and you will be lonely, too. 
Why don't you yo with him? 

Cons. Go with him? Why — I — never mind, my pet. Do not 
trouble your dear little head about Douglas and me. We — we 
do not find it convenient — to go together. 

Edith. How long will Douglas be gone? 

Cons. I — I cannot tell. 

Edith. When 1 asked him, he said he didn't know. 

Cons. Don't think of it, darling. 

Edith. I can't help it; I love you both so dearly, and I 
don't wish you to be unhappy. Mother told me that two 
people who loved each other enough to be married wished al- 
ways to be together ; and I know how I should feel if some one 
that I loved like that should go away. 

Cons. Some one you loved ? 



. YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 27 

Edith. Love holds two people together so closely, that one 
is wretched without the other. 

Cons. Why, my little innocent ! How did you come to know 
anything of that? 

Edith. I — I don't know ; I — I've heen thinking about it for 

a long time. Sometimes I ask Mother. She always tells 

• me to listen to my own heart. I — I have been listening to it. 

I — I do love some one, Constance ! (Dropping he?' head into 

Constance's lap). 

Cons. My child ! 

Edith. I'm not a child any longer, sister. 

Cons. I see you are not, my dear. 

Enter Herbert, up R. 

Her. Edith J (Edith starts up, rising and looking down 
with " consciousness" in her manner.) I've come up to go to 
the steamer with Uncle Douglas. Here's a bunch of violets. 
They're the first of the season ; I've been watching for them. 

Edith. Oh ! thank you. 

Her. It's half an hour yet before Douglas will go ; and you 
are so fond of flowers — wouldn't you like to go into the conser- 
vatory ? 

Edith. Yes, Herbert. (He is leading her up. After a few 
steps she returns and leans over Constance, who still sits down 
L. c.) Sister, don't let Douglas go alone! 

Cons. (Kissing lier.) Go with Herbert, my darling. 

(Edith turns to Herbert, who leads her tip and out r.) 

No longer a child ! I hope she will be happy. 

Enter Maid with card, up r. 

(Beading card.) "Mrs. Robert W, Mackenzie." (Aside.) 
One of mother's friends, I suppose — from Boston, perhaps. 
(Aloud.) Take the card to Mrs. Winthrop, Jeanette. 

(Exit Maid, b. 1 e. Enter Mrs. Dick, up r. 
Barbara ! 

Mrs. Dick. Constance, my love ! Your husband is going to 
Europe, to-day, I hear. 

Cons. Yes. (Crossing r. and sitting.) 

Mrs. Dick, (c.) Business, I suppose. A married man never 
seems to care for the distance he has to travel — on business — 
when he's alone. Dick told me one day — there was a big law- 
case in the West — no, that was Bob — it was a medical conven- 
tion. "I've got to go to Chicago, my dear, on professional 
business," said he. " Oh, haw fur /" said I. " Merely a pleasant 
jaunt," said he. "I'll go with you, my love," said I. "My 
darling," said he, " it's nine hundred miles!" Ha-ha-ha-ha! 
Fir^t class in matrimonial geography : What is the exact dis- 
tance between the city of New York and the city of Chicago V 
Answer : It depends on circumstances. Correct ; go to the 
head. (Enter Mrs. Ruth, b. 1 e., the card in her hand.) Ah ! 



28 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

my dear Mrs. Winthrop, I came to tell Constance some news — 
you shall hear it, too. 

Mrs. Ruth. Thank you ; I shall be very glad. But — {look- 
ing across to Constance) — you sent me a card, Constance — a 
Mrs. Mackenzie. 

Cons. She is in the reception-room. Isn't she calling on 
you ? 

Mrs. Dick. Why, I'm Mrs. Mackenzie ! 

Cons. You! 

Mrs. Dick. That's my card. 

Mrs. Ruth. {Confused.) But — your name — is — Chetwyn. 

Mrs. Dick. It was day before yesterday. Dick and I have 
got a divorce. 

Cons. A divorce ! 

Mrs. Ruth. Divorce ! 

Mrs. Dick. M — m. That's my news. Sit down. I'll tell 
you all about it. {They sit.) We've been living in Connecticut 
for the last year, you know — except a few months in New 
York, during the winter. 

Cons. Yes — I know. 

Mrs. Ruth. {With a bewildered air.) What has living in 
Connecticut to do with a — a divorce? 

Mrs. Dick. It has everything to do with it. They grant you 
a divorce there for incompatibility of temper. 

Mrs. Ruth. But I — I didn't know that you and your hus- 
band were incompatible. 

Mrs. Dick. Neither did we — till Ave went to live in Con- 
necticut. We never knew we had any tempers, to speak of, be- 
fore. When we took a house in Stamford, we didn't dream of 
the effect it would have on a man and wife. Of course Dick 
and I were both witnesses in the case. 

Mrs. Ruth. It must have been very sad. 

Mrs. Dick. Yes, it was : — I had on a bi'ocade — lavender 
and old gold — lace to match the lavender — and sleeves puffed 
above the elbows. (Mrs. Ruth looks at her in bewilderment.) 
The evidence was so comical. 

Mrs. Ruth. Comical ! 

Mrs. Dick. You ought to have been there. Ha-ha-ha-ha ! 
It was all about how Dick and I have been saying mean things 
to each other for a year — so as to obey the laws of the State. 
We called each other all sorts o' names. When we were first 
married Dick said I was a turtle-dove ; — after we got to Con- 
necticut he said I was a snapping turtle-dove. Ha-ha-ha-ha ! I 
began by calling him a donkey — and then I called him a whole 
lot of other animals. He told the judge, according to me he 
was a regular Noah's Ark. I told the judge Dick called me 
animals too. The judge said we seemed to be a happy family ; 
— and so lie granted the divorce. I've gone back to my first 
husband's name. 

Cons. Ah — I remember : — Mackenzie. 

Mrs. Dick. I'm Mrs. Bob, again now. I gave Dick all the 



YOUJSTG MRS. WINTHROP. 29 

old cards I had left over — and the plate. I didn't want to keep 
Dick's name. If he should get married again, it'd be awkward, 
having two of us ; we'd get mixed up. Of course it doesn't 
make any difference to Bob. So Douglas sails to-day. 

Mrs. Ruth. (Rising.) Yes! — and if you will kindly excuse 
me — ■ 

Mrs. Dick. Certainly. (Rising.) I must run along, my- 
self. Good morning. 

Mrs. Ruth. Good morning. (Ihen moving to her and speak- 
ing very earnestly.) Believe me, my dear Mrs. — Mrs. — 

Mrs. Dick. Mackenzie. 

Mrs. Ruth. Mackenzie. I am very sorry that you and your 
husband are separated. 

Mrs. Dick. (Earnestly.) Thank you, my dear Mrs. Win- 
throp — but don't worry yourself about it : — we don't. (Mrs. 
Ruth turns, throwing up her hands, and goes out L., shaking her 
head.) Good by, Constance, my love — I'm going to pop in and 
tell Mrs. Garnette : — she's just got a divorce, too, you know. 
(Kissing her and running tip stage.) 

Cons. Good by. (Moving up into recess of window L. and 
stands looking out.) 

Mrs. Dick. (Stopping up R. c. near opening, and looking r.) 
Here's Mr. Buxton Scott. (Buxton Scott appears from R. 
He and Mrs. Dick bow deeply to each other.) 

Scott. Mrs. Chetwyn. 

Mrs. Dick. Mrs. — Mackenzie! — if you please. 

Scott. (Turning and looking after her.) Eh? — Mac?-- 

Mrs. Dick. Dick and I are separated. 

Scott. I never happened to meet either of you when you 
weren't separated. 

Mrs. Dick. We've got a divorce. 

Scott. Ah ! Then you and Dick will see something of each 
other. I congratulate you both. When were you divorced ? 

Mrs. Dick. Day before yesterday. 

Scott. And you've married a Mr. Mackenzie since ? 

Mrs. Dick. Mr. Scott ! 

Scott. Oh ! I beg your pardon ; you've taken your first 
husband's name ? 

Mrs. Dick. Yes. My maiden name was too far back. By 
the by, my darling old aunt, Miss Vandevere, said the other 
day that she hoped you would come and see her. 

Scott. With pleasure. She's a charming old lady. Give 
her my compliments. Tell her I hope to drop in often. 

Mrs. Dick. I will. I'm living with her. 

Scott. Eh ? (In surprise and turning l.) 

Mrs. Dick. You are still a bachelor? 

Scott. I am. 

Mrs. Dick. I pity you, Mr. Scott. You should marry. 

Scott. And pity myself? I prefer to have you. pity me. 

Mrs. Dick. (Approaching Mm.) You really ought to make 
some woman happy. 



30 YOUNG MRS. WHSTTHROP. 

Scott. (Aside.) She's after number three. (Turning to 
her.) My dear Mrs. Dick. 

Mrs. Dick. Bob. 

Scott. Mrs. Bob. (Looking dotcn at her through his eye- 
glasses.) I'll drop in on Dick and ask his opinion. He knows 
you so well. 

Mrs. Dick. Me ! Bless you ! I meant Aunt Jane. 

Scott. Oh! (Turning l.) 

Mrs. Dick. I'm sure she'd make you happy. She's a 
charming old'lady. Ha-ha-ha-ha — (Running R. — stops.) Come 
and see Aunt Jane — often. (Exit up R.) 

Scott. An old maid and a young grass widow! Two to 
one! (Crossing R.) I shall not call. (He turns, changing his 
tone and manner.) Constance. (She turns to him, giving both 
her hands. He holds them in his own, looking at her icilh kindly 
interest, and speaking in an earnest, fatherly tone.) Douglas 
asked me to come and see him this morning, before he sailed. 

CONS. He is in his room. I will send for him. 

Scott. Thank you. (He still retains her hands, looking 
steadily into her face.) Constance, I have known you and 
Douglas since you were children. You have often called me 
your " second father." 

Cons. You are the dearest friend we have in the world. 

Scott. There is something on your heart. 

Cons. On— my — heart ? 

Scott. I'm only a hard old bachelor, and a stony-hearted 
old lawyer, but you may speak to me — as — as if I were really 
your father. 

Cons. There are some things which one cannot — will not — 
talk about — to any one. 

Scott. When you were a little girl, you used to bring all 
your troubles to me. 

Cons. I am a woman now. 

Scott. Constance, there is something wrong between you 
and your husband. 

Cons. Something — wrong ! — yes. 

Scott. Will you confide in me ? 

Cons. I — I — (hesitates — turns away) — oh! I cannot! — I 
cannot confide in any one. 

Scott. I will not ask you to ; but I will give you the advice 
which your own father would give if he were living. What- 
ever is on your heart, go to your husband — 

Cons. To him ! — no, I am a humiliated wife. My natural 
pride compels me to be silent. 

Scott. What can have happened to make you feel like this 1 

Cons. We will not talk about that. For two years and over 
we have been growing more distant and more indifferent. I 
am worn out, with such a life, at last. We — we do not love 
each other now. 

Scott. M — m — m. You do not love each other? 

Cons. No ; our love is a matter of the past. 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 31 

Scott. How long will Douglas be gone ? 

Cons. I — I do not know. 

Scott. M — m — m. Of course, now that your love is a mat- 
ter of the past (glancing at her shrewdly), it must be a great 
relief to you to — to have Douglas go away. 

Cons. Yes, — it is — (choking) — a — a — a great relief. (Burst- 
ing into tears. Scott approaches her and drops one arm about 
her waist. ) 

Scott. My child ! 

Cons. Father! (Turning to 7rim and hiding her face in his 
breast.) 

Scott. (Tenderly, yet half humorously, patting her Iiead.) 
I'm sorry you don't love each other any more. It is nearly time 
for Douglas to start, my dear ; go and ask him to come to me. 

Cons. Yes — I — I'll — (going L.) — I'll tell him you are here. 

(Exit L. 1 E., still crying.) 

Scott. (Looking after her, with a smile.) It's a pity they 
don't love each other any more. I shall make it my personal 
and professional duty to bring these two wrong-headed young 
people together — in spite of themselves. Providence, so to 
speak, has appointed me their attorney. I — take — the — case. 
The devil is the opposing counsel. He's a good lawyer; and 
highly respected by his fellow-members of the profession. He 
and I have frequently, been on the same side of a case : — I know 
his tricks. (Sitting R.) I dare say a little lyiug will be neces- 
sary. If it is I'll beat him at his own game. Even a lawyer 
must lie, now and then. 

Enter Douglas l. 1 e. He is in travelling suit. 

Doug. My dear Scott 1 (Taking Scott's hand.) 

Scott. Douglas ! 

Doug. I must apologize for asking you to come here ; but 
I found it impossible, yesterday at the office, to say what I 
wanted. (He strikes bell on table, R. c.) I — I could not say it 
until the very last moment. (Enter Maid up R.) Is the car- 
riage at the door, Jeanette? 

Maid. Yes, sir. 

Doug. Tell Kenry my trunk and valise are ready, and say 
to my mother and Miss Edith that I will be down in a few 
moments. 

Maid. Yes, sir. (Exit up R.) 

Doug. (Turning to Scott.) I arranged yesterday for you 
to take the entire management of my property, during my 
absence. 

Scott. Yes. 

Doug. I — I also hinted that I should ask you to make 
certain settlements of my estate. (^1 pause.) My departure for 
Europe, to-day, is the beginning of a final and absolute — sep- 
aration — between my — wife — and me. 

Scott. A — final — separation ! The cause of this, Douglas ? 

Doug. What makes a solid rock fall to pieces without any 



32 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

apparent cause ? The silent and invisible power of a winter's 
frost. A frost like that has come upon Constance and 
me. (A slight 2^ause.) It was my own fault. I gave myself 
up to the struggle for wealth. My wife lived alone and neg- 
lected, as many another rich man's wife lives — surrounded by 
everything a husband's money can furnish to make her happy. 
One night — not many weeks ago — my mother told me how 
cruelly I had neglected Constance — how I had robbed her of a 
home. I confessed my wrong to my wife at once. I spoke to 
her lovingly. She was silent. At that very moment, the Angel 
of Death passed upward with the soul of our little one in his 
arms. My child — and my wife's love — were both — dead ; it 
seemed as if we buried them in the same grave. Since that 
night, Constance has been — respectful — and kind to me — but 
cold and distant — never the loving wife. We have both lived 
within ourselves — strangers to each other in our own home — 
husband and wife only to the world. We are nothing to each 
other now but — ice. 

Scott. M — m. (Glancing at him, then rather carelessly.) I 
hope you'll have a pleasant voyage, Douglas — and a happy 
time, on the other side. 

Doug. Happy ? Can yon say " happy "1 You ? — who knew 
us both when we were happy, indeed ! How can you mock me 
like that ? You are cruel, Scott — you are cruel ! (Dropping 
his face into his hands, Scott approaches him, c. and extends 
his hand.) 

Scott. Douglas — (taking one of his hands in his own) — I 
see you are quite right. You are both of you nothing — but — 
ice. (Looking into Douglas' face with a keen glance, still hold- 
ing his hand ; Douglas returns his glance, then turns away, l. 
Scott continues, aside, turning u.) Mount Hecla is nothing 
but ice — on the outside. But it's a tolerably lively volcano, for 
all that ; there's plenty of heat inside. 

Doug. I wish you to — to draw up the papers for an equal 
division of my properly, between my wife and me — and such 
other papers as our — legal — separation — may involve. 

Scott. No, Douglas !— I cannot. I love you both too 
much. 

Doug. I should not have asked you. We must call upon 
a stranger, after all. (Sitting l. c.) 

Scott. No ! — not to a si ranger. If — if it must be done, 
you may leave it in my hands. How long will you be away ? 

Doug. I cannot tell ; years, perhaps. I feel now as if I 
could never return to America. 

Scott. You must. 

Doug. Must? a 

Scott. (Aside.) Now'for my first lie in the case. (Aloud.) 
I cannot possibly make a division of your property, unless you 
are in this country. 

Doug. You have my power of attorney. 

Scott. In such a case as this, a power of attorney would be 



YOILNG MRS. WINTHROP. 33 

utterly useless. (Aside.) He doesn't know anything about 
law. If another lawyer overheard my legal advice, he'd think 
I didn't. (Aloud.) Can't you come back — in three months 1 

Doug. Three months ? Impossible ! 

Scott. I shall be obliged to leave New York in four 
months, for the Sandwich Islands — an important case for the 
United States Government. I may be gone two years. (Aside.) 
The opposite counsel himself can't beat that. 

Doug. I cannot confide this matter to any one but you. 

Scott. Well then — you must return — in three months. 

Doug. (After a pause.) Well, I will. 

Scott. (Aside) I've gained the first point in the case. 
The sooner I can bring them together, the harder it'll be for 
the devil to keep them apart. (Aloud.) Constance, of course, 
understands my relations to — 

Doug. We have never spoken on the subject of our final 
separation. 

Scott. Ah ! 

Doug. Of course, we both understand the situation. But 
we bade each other good by, a moment ago, without a word. 

Scott. You have said good by, already ? 

Doug. Yes. (Rising and going up.) I am simply flying from 
a life which I can endure no longer. We can write to each 
other on the subject. We cannot trust our tongues. You, of 
course, can communicate with Constance, as my representative. 

Scott. My dear Douglas —you do not understand the law. 

Doug. The law ? No. 

Scott. (Aside.) I don't intend he shall. (Aloud.) It is a 
legal impossibility for me to act in any capacity whatever, 
between you and your wife, unless you meet her again, per- 
sonally — at once — and come to an exact mutual understanding 
as to your respective intentions. De Vinculo Matrimonii — 
Chapter thirty-seven — section two hundred and thirty-nine — • 
Revised Statutes — 1878. (Aside.) Lie number three. (Striking 
bell on table and, risiiig.) If I leave them alone together, it's 
twenty to one he won't go to Europe at all. (Crosses L. c.) 
(Enter Maid r.) Please ask Mrs. Winthrop if she will kindly 
come here. (Exit Maid l. 1 e.) Good by, Douglas. 

Doug. You will remain ? 

Scott. I have an immediate engagement. (Taking out 
watch.) It is now after eleven o'clock. I have a case before the 
Superior Court at eleven-thirty. (Aside.) If I keep on lying 
at this remarkable rate, and with such perfect ease, I'll begin 
to suspect I'm the devil himself. (Offers Douglas his hand.) 

Doug. Good by, old friend ! 

Scott. Good by. (Turning up c. Douglas turns to table 
R. C.) If the good angels ever do help a lawyer — when he 
happens to be on their side — I'll win my case. 

(Exit up R. Douglas Jias taken a miniature from the 
table, R. c. He raises it to his lips and is looking at 
it as Constance enters, l. 1. e.) 



34 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

Cons. Douglas. 

Doug. Ah — Constance. {Leaves miniature on the table. ) I 
have just had an interview with Mr. Scott. I desired to leave 
a — a very important matter— affecting us both — in his hands. 
But he has just assured me that he cannot possibly act as our 
legal adviser in any way whatever unless we come to a — 
a tull mutual understanding as to — as to — the — the relation 
which we — which we intend to — to bear to each other — here- 
after. 

Cons. A — a mutual understanding — yes. 

Doug. We may be perfectly frank with each other now. 
We will speak at last what we have both understood for 
many weeks in our hearts. My departure is only a cloak, of 
course, to hide the truth for a little time from our friends, 
and from the world. We — we are about to — to separate — 
forever. 

Cons. Separate — forever ! — {with emotion, almost staggering) 
— yes. 

Doug. I find it necessary to return in three months. We 
can then make such — final — and permanent — arrangements — 
concerning our — our merely legal relations — as we may mutu- 
ally agree upon. 1— I take it for granted that you, no more 
than I, desire any form of — divorce. 

Cons. No — not that. 

Doug. We can both trust Mr. Buxton Scott. 

Cons. Yes ! 

Doug. He can draw up a mutual agreement of — separation 
— in the usual legal form. We must meet — once more — to 
sign it — and — and — that will be the — end. 

Cons. The — end — yes. {Sinks in. chair L. c.) 

Doug. While I am away you will remain in this house ; 
and I shall have it transferred to you in the final division of 
the property. It has many sad memories for both of us ; but 
we have passed some very happy hours in it, too. The voice 
of our child, now silent, has made its walls sacred. The ashes 
of our own love have become cold upon the hearthstone ; but 
her little spirit may still hover about our former home ; 
and it seems right that it should always find her mother 
here. Good by, Constance. {Moving to her and extending 
Ids hand.) 

Cons. {Rising, turning toward him, and placing her hand 
in his, looking down.) Good by, Douglas. {He holds her hand 
a moment; then turns upstage. lie stops and moves down to 
the table K. C, taking the child's picture.) 

Doug. Constance, you have other pictures of Rosie. I, 
too, have another with me. But this one has a value in my 
eyes that no one else, not even you, could understand. May I 
take it with me 1 ' 

Cons. Yes. Her memory will belong to both of us forever. 

Doug. {Aside.) I see her face in this — mother and child in 
• one. {He then moves up r. She looks after him, making a sud- 



YOUNG MES. WINTHROP. 35 

den movement as if to go to 7iim, which she checks. He passes 
out rapidly without looking back.) 

Cons. Child and husband — both gone ! 
' Curtain. 



ACT FOURTH. 

Scene — Same as that of Act First ; without the child's toys, 
and with some changes in the arrangement of the furni- 
ture. Small table a little left of c, front, with inkstand and 
pens. The portrait of Rosie is absent. No fire. It is now 
spring. Ajternoon. Edith and Herbert discovered. She 
is sitting near c. , sewing. He sits near her, l. c. , with a book 
in his hand, in a thoughtful attitude, as if he had stopped 
reading, losing himself in revery. 

Edith. It's a very pretty story. Go on, Herbert. I like 
to hear you read. You've been silent for a long time. 

Her. I've been thinking. 

Edith. What about ? 

Her. About you. 

Edith. I must go to my room. I haven't given the canary 
his bath to-day, and I must see how the old cat and the new 
kittens are getting on. (Rising.) 

Her. No ; please don't go. (She resumes her seat.) Edith, 
you are so different from what you used to be. You always 
run away from me, now — except when some one is with us, or 
when I am reading to you, — and whenever I try to tell you 
what is in my heart, you change the subject. 

Edith. I must thread my needle again. 

Her. (After a glance and a pause.) I'll thread it for you. 

Edith. You ! (Laughing, as she takes thread ft om spool.) 
I haven't time to wait. 

Her. Oh, I can thread it. Every young bachelor learns how 
to do that. I often have to sew on buttons and things. 

Edith. Well, you may do it. 

Her. (Taking needle and thread.) Whew ! 

Edith. What's the matter? 

Her. It's sharp. 

Edith. (Laughing.) Didn't you know that before '? I knew 
you'd get into trouble. Mind you thread the right end. 

Her. You like the story I am reading ? 

Edith. Yes. The part I like best is where love is gradu- 
ally growing in her heart — without her knowing why — or 
where it came from — or what it is. 

Her. I can't see anything of that kind in the story. 

Edith. You. can't/ 



36 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

Her. She doesn't seem to love Mm at all, yet. 

Edith. Ob, yes, she does ! 

Her. She always avoids him ; and whenever he tries to 
make love to her, she finds an excuse for leaving him — or talks 
about something else. 

Edith. Why, that's the very sign she loves him. 

Her. Is it, Edith? (Eagerly.) 

Edith. Of course ! — don't you understand that ? I'm sure 
she loves him. I feel it, as you go along in the book. 

Heh. (Significantly — looking at her earnestly.) That's just 
the way you act to me. 

Edith. Is the needle threaded ? 

Her. One moment. (Suddenly beginning to thrust the 
thread at the eye of the needle.) 

Edith. How are you getting on ? 

Her. Splendidly ! We're having a regular set-to. This 
is such a little fellow ! 

Edith. H aba-ha-ha. 

Her. I can always get ahead of a big one. 

Edith. Ha-ha-ha. Hadn't /better do it, Herbert? 

Her. No. I can do it. (With a vigorous thrust.) 

Edith. (After a pause.) Isn't the hero of the story funny, 
Herbert? 

Her. Funny?— how? 

Edith. He was so frank and bold at first. But now that she 
really loves him, he never seems to know what to do or say. 

Her. Oh, 1 understand him well enough. 

Edith. He seems almost afraid of her. 

Her. Of course he does. Tliat's the way with any man, 
when he really loves a woman. (Looking at her earnestly.) I'm 
almost afraid of you. 

Edith. Is the needle ready ? 

Her. I'll hit it in the eye in a moment. (Beginning to 
thrust at the needle again. He goes on, keeping his eye intently 
on the needle, and trying to thread it with a variety of motions, 
ranging from quiet efforts to desperate thrusts.) Of course a 
man can't talk to a woman he loves — (needle) — as easily as he 
can — (needle) — to a woman he doesn't love. 

Edith. In the last chapter you read they were alone to- 
gether nearly an hour, and he never said a word about love. 

Her. He was coming to the subject half a dozen times — 
(needle) — and she always turned him off. 

Edith. But she was thinking about it. 

Her. How could he tell that ? 

Edith. He might have guessed it. 

Her. I don't see how he could guess that she was thinking 
about love (paying great attention to needle) — when she was 
talking about her old cat and new kittens — (needle) — or her 
canary's bath. 

Edith. I don't remember that in the book. 

Her. Eh !— Oh !— No. 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 37 

Edith. There's nothing about a cat or a canary in the 
story you were reading. 

Her. You know the story I am thinking about. (Rising and 
leaning over her, speaking earnestly.) Do you remember, Edith, 
one night last winter, I told you I hoped to have a little home 
of my own ? 

Edith. Yes. (Dropping her head.) 

Her. And I said, I — I hoped to get — married. 

Edith. Yes 

Her. You didn't know what I meant — when I told you — I 
loved you. 

Edith. I — I never dreamed of such a thing as love till that 
night. 

Her. I tried to teach you what it was. 

Edith. It seems as if I had lived years since then. (Rising, 
and turning R.) 

Her. (With deep earnestness.) Edith — I love you — with 
all my soul ! — but I feel as if /could learn from you now. I 
hardly dare ask for your love. It could not be stronger than 
mine — but it would be better and sweeter and purer. 

Edith. (After a slight pause.) You need not ask for it. It 
belongs to you. 

Her. My darling ! (Embracing her.) I shall be your 
guide and your protector through life ! 

Edith. O Herbert — I am so happy ! (Her head resting on 
his breas{.) 

Her. Whew ! 

Edith. (Starting tip.) What is it, Herbert? 

Her. That needle. 

Edith. (Sympathetically.) O — h; — where is it? (Taking 
his hand, winch he puts in hers, and touching different parts with 
her finger.) Here ? 

Her. No. 

Edith. Here ? 

Her. No. 

Edith. Here ? 

Her. Yes — there. 

Edith. A — h! (Patting his hand to her lips.) 

Her. We can look after the old cat and the new kittens, 
now. 

Exeunt r. 1 e. Enter Constance up r. She moves down 
R. c, glancing at clock on mantel. 
Cons. Will the time never come? Oh ! I wish to-day 
were past. 

Enter Mrs. Ruth up l. , in bonnet, etc. 

Mrs. Ruth. Constance! — I have just left Douglas — at his 
hotel. He has told me the worst ! This afternoon you are 
to sign the papers that separate you forever. 

Cons. Yes. 1 could not tell you. 

Mrs. Ruth. When Douglas did not come to his own home, 



38 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

I knew, for the first time, how wide the gulf between you had 
become. Isit too late ? 

Cons. Yes ! — too late. (Crossing it.) 

Mrs. Ruth. Douglas said the same. {Passing Constance, 
and moving toward the door it. 1 e.) My heart is full. (She 
stops near door with her hands over her face ; rouses herself and 
turns.) I — I shall always love you, Constance, as my own 
child ! 

Cons. Mother ! (Going to her.) 

Mrs. Ruth. (Embracing her.) My daughter ! (She kisses 
her and goes out r. 1 e. Constance stands looking after her.) 

Enter maid up L., with a card. 

Cons. I can see no one to day, Jeanette — (Takes card) — 
except — Mr. Buxton Scott will be here — you may admit him 
at once. (Exit Maid tip l. Constance reads card.) " Mrs. — 
Richard — Chetwyn." 

Mrs. Dick. (Putting her head in at door, up l.) How 
d' y' do '? 

Cons. Barbara ? 

Mrs. Dick. Dick and I have got married again. I'm using 
the same old cards. May I come in ? 

Cons. Certainly. 

Mrs. Dick. I'll tell you all about it. (Sitting beside her.) It 
was private. We found that being divorced was worse than 
being incompatible. We were both awfully lonely. Ha-ha- 
ha ! Dick and I went through our courtship all over again, 
just as if we'd never been married at all. Poor Aunt Jane 
had another dreadful time with me. 

Cons. What do you mean ? 

Mrs. Dick. Aunt Jane Vandeveer brought me up, you 
know. The dear old maid ! I've always been her favorite 
niece. She's going to leave me all her money. I went to stay 
with Aunt Jane again after Dick and I were separated. She 
was more particular with me than she was when I was a young 
lady. Ha-ha-ha ! One day Aunt Jane and I passed Dick on 
Madison Avenue. Of course we didn't bow to each other. But 
Dick winked at me. Aunt Jane saw it She was fearfully 
indignant. The next time we met — Aunt Jane was on the 
opposite side of me — 1 winked at Bob — I mean Dick. After 
that we carried on a regular flirtation with each other. He 
used to pass the house and wave his handkerchief. Aunt Jane 
always closed the parlor shutters with a bang, and I kissed 
my hand to him out of the second story window. Ha-ha-ha ! 
Then Dick sent me a secret note by one of the servants. We 
arranged a clandestine meeting in Stuyvesant Square ; and we 
went down to Long Beach together. Dick said sweet things 
to me all the afternoon, just as he did when we first fell in 
love ; and after it was dark, we wandered off on the beach by 
ourselves, in the moonlight — and I had tears in my eyes — and 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 39 

Dick kissed me — and the next day we ran away and got 
married. 

Cons. You — you ran away — with your own husband ? 

Mrs. Dick. I had to. Aunt. Jane says she'll never forgive 
us. But she will. I always did run away to get married. 
Dick and I are having another honeymoon. 

Cons. I— I am very glad you are happy again, Barbara. 

Mrs. Dick. Thank you, my dear ; I knew you would be. 
I — I wish you were happy, too, Constance. (In a serious tone.) . 

Cons. I ? 

Mr"s. Dick. Forgive me, Constance — but — I — I know things 
aren't quite as they should be. Perhaps I know more than I 
ought to. Women always do. Your husband hasn't been here 
since he landed ; and that was two weeks ago. I am so happy 
now with Dick — I don't like to see you miserable ; and I feel 
as if /might have had something to do with it. 

Cons. You? 

Mrs. Dick. I was always such a thoughtless creature! 
One night last winter I told you how Dick found Douglas at 
Mrs. Dunbar's house once or twice. I thought it was great 
fun then ; but I shouldn't think so now. When I was a grass 
widow I often met Mrs. Dunbar. She's a grass widow, too, 
you know. Grass widows always do meet each other ; and r 
they always talk about the infelicities of married life. That's 
one reason I'm glad to join the army of married women again. 
Mrs. Dunbar told me that it was nothing but a business con- 
nection with Mr. Winthrop and her. 

Enter Maid up l. 

Maid. Mr. Scott is here, madam. 

Mrs. Dick. He's the very man. 

Cons. Ask him to come in here, Jeanette. (Exit Maid.) 
What do you mean, Barbara? 

Mrs. Dick. Mrs. Dunbar said Buxton Scott knew all about 
it. Ask him, my dear, at once. I'll leave you with him. Is 
your mother in ? 

Cons. Yes. 

Mrs. Dick. I'll run and tell her about Dick and me. I 
know she'll be glad to hear it. (Exit R. 1 E. 

Enter Buxton Scott, up l.) 

Scott. Constance, my dear! lam very sorry to come on 
such an errand. (1'aking her hand.) Is there anything you 
wish to say to me before Douglas arrives ? 

Cons. Yes ; I wish to ask you a question. Have you ever 
had any business connection with — Mr. Winthrop — and — and 
Mrs. Hepworth Dunbar? 

Scott. Mrs. — Dunbar? (Aside.) Of course! — I might 
have known a woman would pop up somewhere in this case. 
(Aloud.) Yes, Constance, I had. But that is a professional 
confidence. 



40 YOUNG MES. WINTHKOP. 

Cons. As you please, Mr. Scott. It is not a matter that 
can now affect the future relations of Mr. Winthrop and me. 
We can never come together again. But it is not too late 
for me to — be— just — if I have wronged liiin. 

Scott. (Aside.) I'll be hanged if I give the devil a single 
point in the case — even for the sake of my professional honor ; 
he doesn't care a rap for his professional honor. (Aloud.) I'll 
tell you the whole truth, Constance. Your brother Clarence — 

Cons. Clarence! what of him? 

Scott. He was a confidential clerk, and he speculated in 
stocks — like many another young man. Result — a defalcation 
— fifty thousand dollars. 

Cons. Defalcation ! 

Scott. Douglas saved him from imprisonment and disgrace 
— (she starts) — by meeting the whole amount himself, out of 
his own fortune. 

Cons. Imprisonment — disgrace ! (Sinking in chair R. c.) 

Scott. It was impossible to prevent the criminal arrest of 
Clarence without the consent of all the creditors. The only 
one that refused was Mrs. Hepworth Dunbar, to whom a large 
amount of the misplaced securities belonged. She had certain 
social grudges to make good; Mr. Douglas Winthrop had 
declined to allow his wife to be introduced to Mrs. Dunbar. 
She had now an opportunity to disgrace the family. Your 
husband was compelled to call upon her — frequently — in per- 
son. His last call was late one night. Clarence would have 
been arrested the next day. Douglas's appeal was in vain. He 
was called suddenly from her house that night by a messenger 
from home. On the following morning I called on Mrs. Dun- 
bar myself. I told her that the child of Douglas Winthrop 
had died the night before. Even a woman like that has a 
heart. Mrs. Dunbar had lost a child herself; and the memory 
of her own sorrow made her merciful. Your brother was 
saved. His — fault — is a secret .(Enter Douglas, up L. Scott 
turns.) Douglas. 

(Nodding and moving tip c. Douglas lows to him. 
Constance 'turns, and they look at each other a mo- 
ment ; then Douglas moves across and dawn to her R., 
extending his hand frankly, and taking her hand. 

Dotjg. Constance. (He Jiolds her hand a moment; then 
drops it ; both standing a moment in silence, looking down. 

Cons. Douglas— I— I have this moment heard of a great kind- 
ness you have done my brother and — me. (Douglas glances 
sharply up at Scott.) Do not blame him. I asked him to tell 
me. I — (with deep feeling) — I thank you, Douglas. 

Doug. I only did what any man of proper feeling would 
have done uuder the same circumstances. (A long silence, 
both looking down.) 

Doug. (Grossing i..) Mr. Scott, we will proceed with the 
business before us. (Scott up c, looks from one to the other, 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 41 

alternately, several times ; then moves down to table, near C, 
front.) 

Scott. I have drawn up four documents. {Taking papers 
from his pocket.) These two are duplicates. {Reads endorse- 
ment on one of the papers.) " Douglas Winthrop and Con- 
stance Winthrop — Deed of Separation." 

(Douglas and Constance sit l. and r. Scott sits at 
table ; opens the paper ; and reads in a rapid, business- 
like tone.) 

"This indenture, made the seventh day of May, eighteen hun- 
dred and eighty-two, by and betweeu Douglas Winthrop, of the 
city and State of New York, party of the first part, and Con- 
stance Winthrop, of the same place, party of the second part — 
Witnesseth : Whereas the said parties of the first and second 
parts were lawfully united in wedlock on the twenty-eighth day 
of June, in the year" — {He stops suddenly in Ms quick reading ; 
the tone of his voice changing, and speaking slowly, with natural 
feeling.) I remember that day perfectly. We all drove to the 
church together from the old homestead, near Concord. The 
marriage service never seemed so beautiful to me as it did 
that morning. Your dear old father's voice, Constance, had 
more than a pastor's tenderness in it as he uttered the words 
which you both repeated after him — " for better, for worse, in 
sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death us 
do part." (Constance and Douglas rise to their feet R. and 
l., showing signs of rising emotion, as Scott proceeds.) When 
you knelt at the chancel-rail before him, his voice was trembling 
as he repeated that beautiful prayer: Send thy blessing upon 
these thy servants ; that they may ever remain in perfect love 
and peace together. (Constance and Douglas drop their 
heads sadly.) As he pronounced the blessing — of a pastor and 
father in one — the sun came from behind a cloud — and the 
light streamed through the window on your heads. Douglas' 
motlier was leaning on my arm. (Constance and Douglas 
turn up stage R. and l. , standing with backs to audience and 
their heads bowed deeply.) There were tears in her eyes, but a 
smile shone through them ; as if the love of a mother's heart 
was pouring its blessing upon both her children — like the sun- 
shine through the window. {His voice is a little broken, and 
he brushes a tear from his eye ivitli his handkerchief) But 
{brushes aicay another tear, leaving handkerchief on table) — hem — 
this is a digression. We will proceed with the business 
before us. 

Doug. ( With choking voice.) Please read the papers as 
rapidly as possible, Mr. Scott. 

Cons. We — {choking) — we need not delay more than is — 
absolutely — necessary. 

Scott. {Restmiing his rapid business tone ; reading.) " And 
whereas said parties of the first and second parts"— but we 
shall not sign this instrument until we have considered the 



42 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

other papers. We will dispose of them at once. {Putting down 
the Deed of Separation, taking tip another paper and rising.) 
This is a deed whereby Douglas Winthrop conveys in fee simple 
to Constance Winthrop the old homestead where she was born, 
near Concord, Massachusetts. (Pause.) Some of the happiest 
hours of my life were passed there. You two childien were 
always running about the place. Constance was a perfect 
little tom-boy. Ha-ha ha ! You both gave me a particularly 
warm reception, one day, when I had just arrived from New 
York. I was going up the gravel walk. Your father was 
coming down the steps to meet me. Constance came bounding 
around the corner, and you after her. She was running one 
way and looking the other. As your father was helping me to 
my feet, he remarked that those children were always upset- 
ting something. Ha-ha ! Five minutes after that, Douglas 
was in the cherry-tree, and you were holding up your little 
apron for the fruit ; — the old cherry-tree down in the corner, 
near the summer-house. 

Cons. Oh, no — the cherry-tree was in the other corner. 
Doug. Over near the old well. 

Scott. So it was. When you both grew older, I often saw 
you walking arm in arm, on the lawn — pfter the stars came 
out. Constance was always explaining to me that you were 
giving her lessons in — astronomy. You were quite as likely 
to be telling her where the stars were, in the afternoon, 
as at night. Those were delightful days at the old home- 
stead. 

Douglas and Constance. Delightful! (With thoughtful 
manner, as if the force of old memories was beginning to 
influence them.) 

Scott. You had a lover's quarrel about that time. Con- 
stance had given you a pair of slippers she had been working 
for you. When you quarrelled she took them away from you, 
and gave them to me. I remember, Constance had a little 
dark bay pony. 

Cons. Oh, no ! — (moving to R. c, near Scott) — it was gray. 
Doug. With a black spot on the left shoulder. (Moving 
down l. c.) 

Scott. Dappled gray — so it was. His name was Jack. 
Cons. Oh, no ! 
Doug. No 1 
Cons. It was Jenny. 

Scott. Oh, yes — of course — Jenny. The first time Douglas 
helped you to mount — Jenny — (turning to Douglas) — you 
gave her too strong a lift ! 
Doug. Yes. (With a smile.) 

Scott. (To Constance.) You fell over on the other side ! 
Cons. Yes. (Constance and Douglas laugh gently and 
pleasantly. Scott laughs with them quietly, moving back a step.) 
Scott. The old family carriage horse — his name was Jack. 
Doug. He was dark bay. (To Constance.) You used to 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 43 

drive Jack for your father — (stepping to her in front of Scott) 
— when he made his pastoral visits. (Scott gradually retires 
up stage L.) 

Cons. I al ways sat in the carriage, to keep the flies off Jack. 

Doug. I often met you on the road ; and I used to think 
you were doing as pious a work outside, making the old horse 
comfortable, as your father was doing inside. 

Cons. Old Jack was one of the family. Dear old Jack ! 

Doug. Dear old Jack ! 

Scott. (Up l. c.) Dear old Jack! (He stands up L., pre- 
tending to look over deed, but watching them.) 

Doug. Do you remember one such afternoon, Constance ? — 
You were sitting in front of the little house where the old 
sexton's widow lived. 

Cons. (Smiling.) How often we used to run down there 
when we were children ! (Sitting front.) 

Doug. Yes — she always had fresh doughnuts for us, on 
Saturdays. (Sitting at her side near the table. Constance nods, 
smiling.) But we had grown older, at the time I am thinking 
of now. I joined you in the carriage. I — I asked you a 
question, that afternoon. (Taking her hand.) Do you remem- 
ber your answer 1 

Cons. Yes. (As if lost in memory.) 

Doug. That was the very word ! I asked you to be — my — 
wife. Oh, Constance ! — I was the happiest man in the world. 

Scott. They're doing very well without a lawyer. (Exit 
up L.) 

Doug. We were in the shade of the great elm. Old Jack 
turned his head and looked back at us, as if he was giving 
us his consent. This ring — (referring to one on her finger) — 
was the pledge of the promises we made to each other, that 
day. Our initials are engraved inside of it. 

Cons. — And the word — " Forever." 

Doug. When I placed it on your finger, in the dear old 
home — (gradually extending his arm about her waist) — I drew 
you to me — (raising her hand toward his lips) — and I — (He sud- 
denly stops ; his eye resting upon the Deed of Separation, on' the 
table near him. He slowly withdraws his arm and drops her 
lut nd ; reaches forward and takes the paper ; finally holding it 
in both hands before him and lioking at it steadily. Constance 
looks at the paper, draws up, rises, and walks R. Douglas 
starts to Ids feet, drops the paper upon the table, and turns up L., 
under strong emotion. He stands far a moment, before speaking, 
as if collecting his thoughts and, bringing his feelings under 
control. ) We — we were losing ourselves — in — in dreams of the 
past. 

Cons. We had forgotten the — the present. 

Doug. (As if suddenly seeing Scott out l., and beckoning 
with a nervous movement.) Ah— Mr. Scott — Mr. Scott ! (He 
icalks down l., a few steps. Re-enter Scott, up l. The deed, 
folded, is still in Ids hand. He stops c, and looks r. and l.) 



44 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

Scott. I beg your pardon. I left my handkerchief in my hat 
outside. {Moving down c. He discovers Ids handkerchief on 
the table ; picks it up quickly, and thrusts it into Ms pocket, 
g' an ting each way. He then begins to read very rapidly from 
the deed in his hand.) "Said party of the first part does by 
these presents grant, sell, remise, release, convey and confirm — 
in — m — m — heirs and assigns forever the premises hereinafter 
described — m — m — m — m — namely, to wit — South side of the 
Boston High-road — intersection of the county line — thence in a 
southerly direction along the western bank of the Coolsac 
Creek" — Speaking of the Coolsac Creek, by the by — {dropping 
suddenly to a conversational tone) — I saw the same old clump 
of willows on the opposite bank, when I was tliere last 
summer. That was a sort of meeting-place for young lovers. 
I remember, one day — I met Douglas and a lady there. You 
remember it, Douglas — what teas her name? It was Douglas 
and Miss — {turning to Constance, who draws up sharply and 
looks around. Douglas looks in surprise) — that particular 
friend of yours, Constance — Miss — Kate — Miss — really, I — 

Cons. Kate Fairfield ! 

Scott. Yes — that's the name. Douglas was arranging a 
bunch of violets in her hair. But this is a digression. I beg 
your pardon. {Reads rapidly.) " With all and singular the 
tenements, hereditaments, and appurtenances thereunto belong- 
ing ; and the said party of the first part" — 

Doug. Pardon me, Mr. Scott — but you are mistaken ; — 
I was never at the place you refer to with Miss Kate Fair- 
field. 

Cons. ( With great dignity and signs of rising jealousy.) Mr. 
Scott's memory may be more accurate than yours. 

Doug. But I protest — I — 

Cons. You were saying, Mr. Scott? — 

Scott. Let me see — it was — no — ah — now I think again — 
I get you young people so mixed up when I recall those days — 
it was Mr. Lawrence Armytage — and — Constance. (Douglas 
and Constance both start.) 

Cons. Nothing of the kind ! {Moving down, R., a few steps, 
indignantly. Scott turns up stage, c, standing with his 
back totli-e audience, and looking up at a picture on the wall.) 

Doug. Mr. Lawrence Armytage was frequently at the house 
— when /called. 

Cons. Kate Fairfield lived on the highroad between your 
house and mine. 

Doug. Mr. Armytage had always dropped in — to see — your 
father. 

Cons. Whenever you were late — you — {choking) — you 
always said it was the old sexton's widow ! {Angrily , crossing 
to him L.) I saw you, myself— talking with Kate Fairfield, 
over the gate — while I was passing in the carriage with father 
— the very day before I took away your slippers and jjavethem 
to Mr. Scott — and I'm glad I did it ! {Drawing tip before him 



\OUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 45 

warily; then turning her lack on him; and returning B„ 
with a dignity in absurd contrast with the words and situation ) 
Doug. (Folloioing her R.) And the very day after that you dis- 
covered that I was only asking Miss Fairfield if her mother 
would lend my mother the hemmer of her sewing-machine !— 
and you took the slippers away from Mr. Scott and sent them 

back to me ! t , 7 . 

Cons. Oh ! {He returns l., triumphantly, She turns to- 
ward him.) I '.didn't send them back to you 1 

Doug. You?— (Turning suddenly )-Mr. Scott I (Appealing 
earnestly to Scott, up stage.) 

Scott. Eh 1 (Jumping around suddenly.) 

Cons. (To Scott.) He says i" sent those slippers back to 
him. You know I didn't— don't you ? 

Scott. Certainly, you didn't. (Starling down c) 

Doug ' The package was addressed in her handwriting. 

Scott. Yes— Constance wrote the address. (Still moving 

down.) w , . lf 

Cons. Mr. Scott se/z£ it— by the boy— himself. 

Scott. Yes— I se/^ it. (c, front.) 

Doug. It is quite immaterial ;— I dare say you sent another 
pair to Mr. Armytage ! 

Cons O— o— o— o— o— h I (Bursting into sobs, R. c Doug- 
las stands l. c, wifA his arms folded. Scott looks from one to 
the other a moment.) . 

Scott Ah bv the way, it has just occurred to me : it 
was Mr. Armytage and Miss- Fairfield I saw together under the 

^«,c' niv iT.nnkina iin fromhersobs) It wasn't either of 



Cons.' Oh. (Looking up from her sobs) 



us. 



Scott. When I saw Douglas in the lane— you were with 
him, Constance. 

Doug. Oh. It was both of us. , 

Scott. (To Douglas.) You had been gathering some 
water-lilies for Constance. 

Cons Oh, yes f (Brightly, with sudden recollection.) 

Scott. (To Constance.) It was the day he fell into the 
pond. 

Doug. Yes I 

Scott. He got into the mud up to the knees. 

Cons. I remember ! 

Doug. So do 1 1 . . 

Scott. (To Douglas.) Constance tried to pull you out ot 
the water ; and (To Constance) he pulled you in ! (Con- 
stance and Douglas burst into a merry laugh, nodding at each 
other across Scott.) We will proceed with the business before 
us ( Their faces suddenly drop. They turn up stage e. and L.) 
Returning to the original Deed of Separation. (Taking up the 
Deed Constance and Douglas look up at each other, across 
stage', at back; then drop their eyes. Scott reads) " The said 
Douglas Winthrop and the said Constance Winthrop, his wite, 



46 YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 

have by mutual consent agreed to live separate and apart from 
each other ; — and whereas the aforesaid" — {Enter Edith r. 
1 E.) Edith ! 

Edith. Mr. Scott ! 

Scott. (Going to her.) I have some news for you, Edith. 
Your brother Douglas is here. 

Edith. Oh ! — where is he ? 

(He leads her to Douglas, toho meets her l. c.) 

Edith. Douglas ! (Throwing her arms about his neck.) 

Doug. Edith — my little sister ! 

Edith. Oh — I am so glad you have come home — so glad ! 
We shall all be happy, now. 

Doug. Happy ! — Yes. 

Edith. Constance has missed you so much, Douglas — so 
much ! You won't go away from us again — will you ? 

Doug. I— I— 

Scott. My little pet! (Taking her from Douglas, wJw 
turns up stage a few steps.) 

Edith. H'm ! 

Scott. I know you have a great, deal to tell. Douglas, but 
not now. Sit down, Edith. (Leading her to seat l.) 

Edith. Oh, very well — I will wait. But I am so glad Doug- 
las is home again. 

Doug. (Apart — in Scott's ear.) We — we cannot go on with 
this — in her presence. 

Scott. (Apart to him.) I need not read the rest of the 
paper. You and Constance can sign it — in silence. (Douglas 
retires from him and turns tip c, a little to the right, dropping 
his head. Constance stands R., partly up stage. Scott re- 
turns to the table, near c, front ; takes up the Deed of Separation 
and turns, facing Constance and Douglas.) There is one 
piece of property not mentioned in any of these deeds ; — a 
burial lot in Greenwood Cemetery, with one little grave. 
{A pause, Constance and Douglas looking down, with bowed 
heads. ) 

Edith. Mother and I went to Greenwood yesterday, Doug- 
las. You and Constance must go with us next time. The 
place where Rosie lies is covered with flowers. (Constance 
and Douglas give wag to their tears, both dropping their faces 
into their hands.) 

Scott. Even a lawyer cannot divide that property, nor the 
memories of a father and mother that cluster about the 
grave of their child : — and there is a little soul that belongs 
to you both. (He turns to the table, turning over the leaves of 
the Deed to the last page.) You — you will both sign — here — if 
you please. (He takes up the pen, dips it into the ink, and turns, 
holding it toward them. During this action they have rushed 
into each other's arms, weeping. Picture. Scott turns and 
drops the pen, taking the deed and ten ring it.) I have won the 
case. (He walks up c Enter Mits. Ruth r. 1. e. She start*, 



YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP. 47 

with an exclamation, looking at Douglas and Constance, 
with her back to the audience. Douglas looks tip to her and 
meets her doicn it., embracing her. 

Enter Herbert, up l. Places a riug upon Edith 's first finger. 
Enter Mrs. Dick r. 1. e., sailing in rapidly. 

Mrs. Dick. (As she enters.) I've been away from Dick 
for nearly two hours. (She turns c, seeing Douglas.) Mr. 
Winthrop ! (Goes to him and takes his hand.) 

Doug. (Smiling.) Mrs. Dick ! 

Mrs. Dick. Constance! (Turning to Constance.) I really 
must go. Dick'll be lonely. We haven't been separated so 
long since we've been married — this time. Good by, all. 
(Going up L., nods to Scott as she passes him tip c.) Ah — 
Mr. Scott. 

Scott. Mrs. Mackenzie ! 

Mrs. Dick. (Stopping up l. c, turning.) Mrs. Cbetwyn. 

Scott. Eh? 

Mrs. Dick. Dick and I have got married again. 

Scott. Married? You and — allow me. (Offers her a card.) 
My professional card. 

Mrs. Dick. Thank you — no. We've had quite enough of 
the law ; and if we ever go anywhere by way of Connecticut, 
we'll take through tickets. Call on us, Mr. Scott — any evening 
— Dick and I are always at home. (Exit tip L.) 

Scott. The devil has lost that case, too. 

Doug. (To Mrs. Ruth, with one arm about Constance's 
waist; raising her hand in his and looking at the ring on 
her finger.) Dear mother, our hearts have conquered us. 
(Turning to Constance.) We can trust to them hereafter. 

CON. (Looking down at the ring.) Yes, Douglas, " Forever." 

Curtain. 



b 



G)H 



Young Mrs. Winthrop. 



A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 



BRONSON HOWARD. 



Published in accordance with the requirements of the copyright law. 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 



MADISON SQUARE THEATRE, NEW YORK, 

1882. 



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